him and sent him rolling into the ditch on the
other side.

Before he could rise or place himself in any posture of defence he
was roughly seized, and in spite of his struggles was carried away as
helpless as a child, whilst to aggravate his position his eyes were
tightly blindfolded.

"What does this mean?" he shouted out in desperation; but no one
deigned to answer.

"I am Sir George Vernon," he added stoutly, but if he had thought that
this was information, or that his captors would be inclined to
quake before this declaration of his rank and person, he was sorely
mistaken, and the brief answer they returned soon convinced him on the
point.

"We know it," they laughed; "we are no fools."

"Nathan Grene," he passionately shouted, "you shall rue this day." He
no longer wondered now at the non-appearance of his adversary; he felt
confident that the recreant smith was there, and the thought of being
thus within his power goaded him into a frenzy of passion.

"Thou shalt live to rue this bitterly," he repeated, but before he
could say anything further his mouth was filled with grass, and in
spite of his attempts to speak he could no longer succeed in making
himself heard.

How far he was being carried he knew not, nor yet did he know the way;
and beyond making a few desultory attempts to disengage his nether
limbs from the vice-like grasp in which they were enclosed, the baron
made no further attempts to free himself.

It was quite dark before they stopped, and when his bandages were
taken off he had only sufficient time to discover that they had halted
at the mouth of a cave before his captors seized hold of his
person and unceremoniously pushed him in, sending, after a brief
consultation, one of their number after him to see that he made no
effort to escape.

"Where is Nathan Grene?" inquired the outraged nobleman, as soon as he
found himself at liberty; "I want to see him."

"Happen you do!" replied his keeper, who was none other than the
ostler; "then, maybe, you will find him at London. You were near
enough to him in the stable loft; maybe he is out of the stocks again
now."

"Don't talk with him," commanded an imperious voice from the exterior,
"or he will be taking you unawares."

The order was literally complied with, and to all his queries
thenceforward the baron could gain no reply. At length he gave up the
attempt, and watched in sullen silence his captors kindle a fire just
within the cavern