t leveled his crossbow on the low arm of a tree, and as the rider
came abreast of him touched the trigger, and the steel-pointed quarrel
flew true and strong against the temple of the passing horseman. He fell
from his horse like a stone, and the well-trained animal at once stood
still by the side of his rider.

Cuthbert leaped forward, and to his delight the child at once opened her
arms and cried in a joyous tone:

"Cuthbert!"

The fight was still raging fiercely, and Cuthbert, raising her from the
ground, ran with her into the wood, where they remained hidden until the
combat ceased, and the last survivors of the baron's band had ridden
past toward the castle.

Then Cuthbert went forward with his charge and joined the band of
outlaws, who, absorbed in the fight, had not witnessed the incident of
her rescue, and now received them with loud shouts of joy and triumph.

"This is a good day's work indeed for all," Cuthbert said; "it will make
of the earl a firm friend instead of a bitter enemy; and I doubt not
that better days are dawning for Evesham Forest."

A litter was speedily made with boughs; on this Margaret was placed, and
on the shoulders of two stout foresters started for home, Cnut and
Cuthbert walking beside, and a few of the band keeping at a short
distance behind, as a sort of rearguard, should the baron attempt to
regain his prey.

There was now no cause for speed, and Cuthbert in truth could scarce
drag one foot before another, for he had already traversed over twenty
miles, the greater portion of the distance at his highest rate of speed.

Cnut offered to have a litter made for him also, but this Cuthbert
indignantly refused; however, in the forest they came upon the hut of a
small cultivator, who had a rough forest pony, which was borrowed for
Cuthbert's use.

It was late in the afternoon before they came in sight of Evesham
Castle. From the distance could be seen bodies of armed men galloping
toward it, and it was clear that only now the party were returning from
the wood, and had learned the news of the disappearance of the earl's
daughter, and of the finding of the bodies of her attendants.

Presently they met one of the mounted retainers riding at headlong
speed.

"Have you heard or seen anything," he shouted, as he approached, "of the
Lady Margaret? She is missing, and foul play has taken place."

"Here I am, Rudolph," cried the child, sitting up on the rude litter.

The horseman ga