ith me, and on the road to my
good friend, to whom I journey for safety, I will ponder over this
matter, and concert a scheme, whereby the wish of thy heart may be
carried out. Meanwhile, trust me, good child, as so far thou hast nobly
done."

"One thing, good friend," I said, as we swung along southward, "what is
thy name, that I may know whom I may thank for this wonderful
deliverance."

My comrade laughed strangely at my words, and answered hastily--

"For names, lad, we are not over-ready with them in the chateau yonder.
Ofttimes their sound, compared with their ring in other days, bringeth
more pain than joy. You may call me, if thou wilt, Des Bois, for indeed
I love the woodland. And for thanks, lad, thank me with a kind word and
trustful look, and a good stroke of the sword, if that be needful ever
for mine honour."

So we strode on, and as the moonlight made silvery passages amid the
trees, I watched him as he knitted his brows in thought, whether on my
account or his own I knew not. I thought I saw in him all that I dreamed
of knightly spirit, and I guessed that in Des Bois lay hidden one like
Brother Hugo, who for some reason masked a great and noble name in this
poor, paltry disguise. Ay, but it was a visage that not long rested
serious. A smile broke over its furrows, making it like a field that
smiled in the sunlight, and he said right gaily in my ear--

"Ay, good lad, we will weave thee a rope to Normandy both strong and
subtle, and witty withal, and thou shalt hear its texture when we arrive
yonder; but as the night wears on, we must ride faster, or trot
ourselves, since steed are lacking, so let us not lose time."

With that indeed he broke into a nimble run, and I followed. And ere
half a mile was passed, we were out of the forest and by the shore of
the sea, hard by Cobo Bay, and keeping still close to cover, lest danger
should arise--for the pirates had their sentinels in huts in every small
harbour of the isle--we ere long were by La Perelle Bay, and I could see
on Lihou the dim outline of the monastery.

Soon Des Bois turned sharply to the left, and we were soon in a trim
wood that ran up almost from the shore. The blind, thick wall of a small
building lay in our path, and by its side a little low-roofed hut of
daub and wattle.

"The chapel of good St. Apolline!" I said in surprise, for I knew well
that little shrine by the coast, where the fisher-people made
supplication for good weather