e of the springs of the River Wey.

The next day's journey was a pleasanter one, for there was more of wood
and heather, and they had to skirt round the marshy borders of various
bogs. Spring was happier, being able to stop and lap whenever he would,
and the whole scene was less unfriendly to them. But they scarcely made
speed enough, for they were still among tall whins and stiff scrub of
heather when the sun began to get low, gorgeously lighting the tall
plumes of golden broom, and they had their doubts whether they might not
be off the track; but in such weather, there was nothing alarming in
spending a night out of doors, if only they had something for supper.
Stephen took a bolt from the purse at his girdle, and bent his crossbow,
so as to be ready in case a rabbit sprang out, or a duck flew up from
the marshes.

A small thicket of trees was in sight, and they were making for it, when
sounds of angry voices were heard, and Spring, bristling up the mane on
his neck, and giving a few premonitory fierce growls like thunder,
bounded forward as though he had been seven years younger. Stephen
darted after him, Ambrose rushed after Stephen, and breaking through the
trees, they beheld the dog at the throat of one of three men. As they
came on the scene, the dog was torn down and hurled aside, giving a howl
of agony, which infuriated his master. Letting fly his crossbow bolt
full at the fellow's face, he dashed on, reckless of odds, waving his
knotted stick, and shouting with rage. Ambrose, though more aware of
the madness of such an assault, still hurried to his support, and was
amazed as well as relieved to find the charge effectual. Without
waiting to return a blow, the miscreants took to their heels, and
Stephen, seeing nothing but his dog, dropped on his knees beside the
quivering creature, from whose neck blood was fast pouring. One glance
of the faithful wistful eyes, one feeble movement of the expressive
tail, and Spring had made his last farewell! That was all Stephen was
conscious of; but Ambrose could hear the cry, "Good sirs, good lads, set
me free!" and was aware of a portly form bound to a tree. As he cut the
rope with his knife, the rescued traveller hurried out thanks and
demands--"Where are the rest of you?" and on the reply that there were
no more, proceeded, "Then we must on, on at once, or the villains will
return! They must have thought you had a band of hunters behind you.
Two furlongs henc