“Here,” he said, “take my cross-bow;
shalt not go unarmed.”
“A cross-bow!” said Matcham. “Nay,
boy, I have neither the strength to bend nor yet the
skill to aim with it. It were no help to me,
good boy. But yet I thank you.”
The night had now fallen, and under the trees they
could no longer read each other’s face.
“I will go some little way with you,”
said Dick. “The night is dark. I
would fain leave you on a path, at least. My
mind misgiveth me, y’ are likely to be lost.”
Without any more words, he began to walk forward,
and the other once more followed him. The blackness
grew thicker and thicker. Only here and there,
in open places, they saw the sky, dotted with small
stars. In the distance, the noise of the rout
of the Lancastrian army still continued to be faintly
audible; but with every step they left it farther
in the rear.
At the end of half an hour of silent progress they
came forth upon a broad patch of heathy open.
It glimmered in the light of the stars, shaggy with
fern and islanded with clumps of yew. And here
they paused and looked upon each other.
“Y’ are weary?” Dick said.
“Nay, I am so weary,” answered Matcham,
“that methinks I could lie down and die.”
“I hear the chiding of a river,” returned
Dick. “Let us go so far forth, for I am
sore athirst.”
The ground sloped down gently; and, sure enough, in
the bottom, they found a little murmuring river, running
among willows. Here they threw themselves down
together by the brink; and putting their mouths to
the level of a starry pool, they drank their fill.
“Dick,” said Matcham, “it may not
be. I can no more.”
“I saw a pit as we came down,” said Dick.
“Let us lie down therein and sleep.”
“Nay, but with all my heart!” cried Matcham.
The pit was sandy and dry; a shock of brambles hung
upon one hedge, and made a partial shelter; and there
the two lads lay down, keeping close together for
the sake of warmth, their quarrel all forgotten.
And soon sleep fell upon them like a cloud, and under
the dew and stars they rested peacefully.
They awoke in the grey of the morning; the birds were
not yet in full song, but twittered here and there
among the woods; the sun was not yet up, but the eastern
sky was barred with solemn colours. Half starved
and over-weary as they were, they lay without moving,
sunk in a delightful lassitude. And as they thus
lay, the clang of a bell fell suddenly upon their
ears.
“A bell!” said Dick, sitting up.
“Can we be, then, so near to Holywood?”
A little after, the bell clanged again, but this time
somewhat nearer hand; and from that time forth, and
still drawing nearer and nearer, it continued to sound
brokenly abroad in the silence of the morning.
“Nay, what should this betoken?” said
Dick, who was now broad awake.
