which was now rising over the woods, and occasionally revealing her wan and wasted crescent through gaps in the clouds.  Waning in her last quarter, and struggling amid banks of vapour, she yet retained sufficient, magnitude and lustre, when risen a few more degrees, to dispel the almost sepulchral darkness that had hitherto invested the ruins, and thus proved a more effectual protection to the travellers than their own courage.  Of this Roland was well aware; and he watched the increasing light with sullen and gloomy forebodings; though still exhorting his two supporters to hope and courage, and setting them a constant example of vigilance and resolution.  But neither hope nor courage, neither vigilance nor resolution, availed to deprive the foe of the advantage he had gained in effecting a lodgment among the ruins, where four or five different warriors still maintained a hot fire upon the hovel, doing, of course, little harm, as it was entirely deserted, but threatening mischief enough, when it should fall into their hands,—­a catastrophe that was deferred only in consequence of the extreme cautiousness with which they now conducted hostilities, the travellers making only a show of defending it, though sensible that it almost entirely commanded the ravine.

It was now more than an hour and a half since Nathan had departed, and Roland was beginning himself to feel the hope he encouraged in the others, that the man of peace had actually succeeded in effecting his escape, and that the wild whoop which he at first esteemed the evidence of his capture or death, and the assault that followed it, had been caused by some circumstance having no relation to Nathan whatever,—­perhaps by the arrival of a reinforcement, whose coming had infused new spirit into the breasts of the so long baffled assailants.  “If he have escaped,” he muttered, “he must already be near the camp:—­a strong man and fleet runner might reach it in an hour.  In another hour,—­nay, perhaps in half an hour, for there are good horses and bold hearts in the band,—­I shall hear the rattle of their hoofs in the wood, and the yells of these cursed bandits, scattered like dust under their footsteps.  If I can but hold the ravine for an hour!  Thank Heaven, the moon is a second time lost in clouds, the thunder is again rolling through the sky!  A tempest now were better than gales of Araby,—­a thunder-gust were our salvation.”

The wishes of the soldier seemed about, to be fulfilled.  The clouds, which for half an hour had been breaking up, again gathered, producing thicker darkness than before; and heavy peals of thunder, heralded by pale sheets of lightning that threw a ghastly but insufficient light over objects, were again heard rattling at a distance over the woods.  The fire of the savages began to slacken, and by and by entirely ceased.  They waited perhaps for the moment when the increasing glare of the lightning should enable them better to distinguish between the broken timbers, the objects of so many wasted volleys, and the crouching bodies of the defenders.