muscular strength is marvellous." He went on to the appointed place
alone and slowly, seeing nothing of Basil or the three others until he
got there.

About a dozen men were assembled, and Windybank gathered from their
whispers that they were from the northern part of the forest or from
beyond the Wye; neither Father Jerome nor his other lieutenant, John,
was present. Windybank stretched himself on the grass just above the
water, being determined to say nothing to any man. He fell to
contemplating the tall spire of Westbury Church, which stood out like a
blurred finger in the darkness. Meanwhile the tide ran strongly.

A boat came across from the eastern side of the river. Father Jerome
and five men stepped out, and the boat was tied up under the bank. The
Jesuit asked for "Master Windybank," and Andrew stood up. "Your
leader, friends, if it comes to fighting," said Jerome quietly.
Windybank bowed; he had not anticipated such an honour, and he
certainly did not want it; there was too much danger about it.

"Where is John?"

Basil answered. "Gone to meet the company that rides from Gloucester."

Nearly half an hour went by, a time of dead silence and anxious
watching. Some of the less eager conspirators began to feel the
demoralizing effects of the long wait; their courage began to ebb.
Andrew Windybank had time to reflect, and he wished himself well out of
the whole business. Here and there a man sighed or fidgeted in the
darkness. Basil was quick to notice the signs, and equally quick to
combat them. He whispered words of hope and promise, and stimulated
the nagging ones to fresh zeal.

A muffled sound of hoofs--the men from Gloucester! Windybank noted
with some degree of satisfaction that they ware well armed and well
mounted. In the darkness he counted nearly a score of men. A few were
"riff-raff;" some, like himself, were perhaps forced; but the majority
seemed to be of some substance and courage. Prospects were looking
brighter. Master Andrew ventured to ask Basil a question. "What of
the Irish ship?"

"The _Luath_ will not fail us; she is almost due."

"It is possible that she may pass the cliff in the darkness," put in a
bystander. "Mine eyes are good, but I cannot see mid-stream, and a
boat that carries no lights may easily slip by unseeing and unseen."

"That is our greatest risk, my son," admitted Basil. "But if the
_Luath_ is to escape other prying eyes, we must take the chance