t oak?"

Philip had seen already, and his answer was quickly spoken.

"They be horsemen," he said--"horsemen drawn up and, as it were,
awaiting us. I fear me we shall not pass without molestation. But
my counsel is not to pause, rather to gallop still on steadily, as
though we saw them not. But let us be ready; and if they dare to
molest us, let us with one accord discharge our pieces in their
faces. That will disconcert them for a moment, and we may perchance
outride them. We are but three miles and a half from Cross Way
House. I trow we can make shift to reach its friendly shelter; and
once there we shall be safe."

"It is useless to pause now," answered Sir Richard, who was always
cool and self possessed in moments of real peril. "Our men are a
mile behind, and to hesitate would be to lose all. A bold front is
our greatest safeguard. We are all well skilled in the use of arms.
Be watchful and vigilant, and make you sure that every shot and
every stroke will tell. We have need of all our strength, if we are
attacked. But they may let us pass unmolested; they may guess that
our followers are behind."

Culverhouse said nothing, but he set his teeth hard and his eyes
flashed ominously. He had never tasted real warfare before, and it
seemed to fire the blood in his veins and send it tingling through
his body. Each rider so shifted his carbine that it could be
readily used at a moment's notice.

And now they had reached the forest aisle. Their good horses, still
galloping freely and easily, bore them rapidly onwards. They had
almost reached that silent, motionless band awaiting them with
sinister quietude. In another moment they would have passed them,
when, on a sudden, a voice rang out clear and sharp through the
still air:

"Halt! stand! Stand, or we fire!"

"Ride on and fire!" said Sir Richard in calm tones; and the next
moment the echoes were awakened by three sharp reports of firearms
and by a yell--three yells--of human rage and pain. A roar of
execration and menace arose from twenty throats, and twenty blades
gleamed brightly in the gathering dusk. But already the riders had
passed the little band, sweeping by before they were well aware of
it. And as they did so, they heard a voice exclaim, sharpened by
rage and pain:

"It is they--it is our foes! I knew it--I knew it! Those are the
Trevlyn brood that we were warned would pass--the false sire and
his son and nephew. After them, my men! Let them not esc