the boldest heart--the ring and
tramp of an armed, oncoming multitude.

Now, lying amid the leaves and fern with Cnut and the small man Prat
beside him. Beltane presently espied certain figures moving in the
valley below, stealthy figures that were men of Sir Rollo's van-ward.
Soft-creeping they approached the deserted camp, soft-creeping they
entered it; and suddenly their trumpets brayed loud and long, and,
dying away, gave place to the ring and trampling thunder of the
advancing host.

On they came, knights and men-at-arms, rank upon rank, company by
company, until the valley seemed full of the dull gleam of their armour
and the air rang loud with clash and jingle and the trample of
countless hooves. Yet still they came, horsemen and foot-men, and ever
the sound of them waxed upon the air, a harsh, confused din--and ever,
from the glooming woods above, Death stared down on them.

And now the trumpets blew amain, lights flickered and flared, as one by
one, fires were lighted whose red glow flashed back from many a helm
and shield and breast-plate, from broad gisarm and twinkling
lance-point, what time, above the confused hum, above stamping hooves
and clashing armour, voices shouted hoarse commands.

So, little by little, from chaos order was wrought, pack-horse and
charger were led away to be watered and picketed and gleaming figures
sank wearily about the many camp-fires where food was already
preparing. In a while, from the stir of the camp, bright with its many
watch-fires, divers small groups of men were detached, and, pike and
gisarm on shoulder, began to mount toward the forest at varying
points.

Hereupon, Beltane reached out in the dark and touched the small man
Prat the Archer. Quoth he:

"Hither come their outposts, go now and bring up my company,--and bid
them come silently!"

Forthwith Prat sank down among the fern and was gone, while Beltane
watched, keen-eyed, where four men of Sir Hollo's outposts climbed the
slope hard by. And one was singing, and one was cursing, and two were
quarrelling, and all four, Beltane judged, were men aweary with long
marching. Thus, singing, cursing, quarrelling, came they to keep their
ward within these dark and silent woods, crashing through the
underbrush careless of their going and all unheeding the sombre,
stealthy forms that rose up so silently behind them and before from
brush and brake and thicket, creeping figures that moved only when the
night-wind moane