anst persuade him?"

"I trow I can," answered Philip; and then they both turned on
Cuthbert, asking him for a more detailed account of his search
after and his discovery of the lost treasure, hanging with eager
interest on his words.

It was late ere he left their lodgings, and the family at the
bridge house had retired to rest. He found his way to his room; but
little sleep visited his eyes that night, and the fitful dreams
which came to him betwixt waking and sleeping seemed charged with
ominous warnings.

Sir Richard Trevlyn heard his son's story in great surprise, but he
hesitated not a moment as to the course of action they must pursue.

"I would it had been brought to Trevlyn Chase. We have a household
of men there, and could well defy these rogues of the road. But
Cross Way House has no such defences, and it is tenanted mainly by
helpless women, and we must lose no time in going to their
assistance. I have heard long since of this man--Tyrrel. He is a
notable outlaw, and there is a price upon his head. The forest will
be well freed of him if we can overthrow him. He has owed his
safety again and again to his reckless riding and the alliance and
good fellowship he has with the forest gipsies. It is time the
whole brood were smoked out from their hiding places. They want
destroying, root and branch!"

Sir Richard found it easier to remember that the treasure had been
stolen and hidden by the gipsy people than that it had been
restored partly through the assistance of the woman Joanna, the
queen. However, there was little time for further talk. The night
was already advanced, and on the morrow they were to make as early
a start as was practicable.

Sir Richard had not many servants of his own, but Culverhouse could
bring a good dozen men with him. Unluckily the storm raged all
through the earlier hours of the following day, and it was not till
noon that a start could be made. However, the seventeen miles' ride
could be easily made before dark, although the roads were deep in
mud, and travelling in the open country was both tedious and bad.

The last of the scattered hamlets had been passed. The sun glowed
red before them in an angry, lowering sky. Sir Richard and his son
and Lord Culverhouse paused on the brow of the ridge to look both
before and behind. They had in their impatience outridden their
servants, who, less well mounted, found some difficulty in spurring
along the deep mire of the ill-made roads