do ye take me?" said the girl. "Ye but delay your speed."

"Nay, Mistress Risingham," replied Dick. "Shoreby is full of blood and
drunkenness and riot. Here ye are safe; content ye."

"I will not be beholden to any of your faction," she cried; "set me
down."

"Madam, ye know not what ye say," returned Dick. "Y' are hurt----"

"I am not," she said. "It was my horse was slain."

"It matters not one jot," replied Richard. "Ye are here in the midst of
open snow, and compassed about with enemies. Whether ye will or not, I
carry you with me. Glad am I to have the occasion; for thus shall I
repay some portion of our debt."

For a little while she was silent. Then, very suddenly, she asked:

"My uncle?"

"My Lord Risingham?" returned Dick. "I would I had good news to give
you, madam, but I have none. I saw him once in the battle, and once
only. Let us hope the best."

CHAPTER V

NIGHT IN THE WOODS: ALICIA RISINGHAM

It was almost certain that Sir Daniel had made for the Moat House; but,
considering the heavy snow, the lateness of the hour, and the necessity
under which he would lie of avoiding the few roads and striking across
the wood, it was equally certain that he could not hope to reach it ere
the morrow.

There were two courses open to Dick: either to continue to follow in the
knight's trail, and, if he were able, to fall upon him that very night
in camp, or to strike out a path of his own, and seek to place himself
between Sir Daniel and his destination.

Either scheme was open to serious objection, and Dick, who feared to
expose Joanna to the hazards of a fight, had not yet decided between
them when he reached the borders of the wood.

At this point Sir Daniel had turned a little to his left, and then
plunged straight under a grove of very lofty timber. His party had then
formed to a narrower front, in order to pass between the trees, and the
track was trod proportionately deeper in the snow. The eye followed it,
under the leafless tracery of the oaks, running direct and narrow; the
trees stood over it, with knotty joints and the great, uplifted forest
of their boughs; there was no sound, whether of man or beast--not so
much as the stirring of a robin; and over the field of snow the winter
sun lay golden among netted shadows.

"How say ye," asked Dick of one of the men, "to follow straight on, or
strike across for Tunstall?"

"Sir Richard," replied the man-at-arms, "I would follow the line un