ggle as well as he could towards the other side of the
moat, still keeping his head above water. In this way he got much more
than half-way over; indeed the bank was almost within reach, before the
rope began to draw him back by its own weight. Taking his courage in
both hands, he left go and made a leap for the trailing sprays of willow
that had already, that same evening, helped Sir Daniel's messenger to
land. He went down, rose again, sank a second time, and then his hand
caught a branch, and with the speed of thought he had dragged himself
into the thick of the tree and clung there, dripping and panting, and
still half uncertain of his escape.

But all this had not been done without a considerable splashing, which
had so far indicated his position to the men along the battlements.
Arrows and quarrels fell thick around him in the darkness, like driving
hail; and suddenly a torch was thrown down--flared through the air in
its swift passage--stuck for a moment on the edge of the bank, where it
burned high and lit up its whole surroundings like a bonfire--and then,
in a good hour for Dick, slipped off, plumped into the moat, and was
instantly extinguished.

It had served its purpose. The marksmen had had time to see the willow,
and Dick ensconced among its boughs; and though the lad instantly sprang
higher up the bank and ran for his life, he was yet not quick enough to
escape a shot. An arrow struck him in the shoulder, another grazed his
head.

The pain of his wounds lent him wings; and he had no sooner got upon the
level than he took to his heels and ran straight before him in the dark,
without a thought for the direction of his flight.

For a few steps missiles followed him, but these soon ceased; and when
at length he came to a halt and looked behind, he was already a good way
from the Moat House, though he could still see the torches moving to and
fro along its battlements.

He leaned against a tree, streaming with blood and water, bruised,
wounded, and alone. For all that, he had saved his life for that bout;
and though Joanna remained behind in the power of Sir Daniel, he neither
blamed himself for an accident that it had been beyond his power to
prevent, nor did he augur any fatal consequences to the girl herself.
Sir Daniel was cruel, but he was not likely to be cruel to a young
gentlewoman who had other protectors, willing and able to bring him to
account. It was more probable he would make haste to marr