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Discovering Diverse Content Through
Random Scribd Documents
the odds that surrounded me. Where had the scrivener
gone and what was detaining him?

I waited. The time went by so slowly that it seemed an

age. My heart beat off the seconds as though it were
counting out the span of my life. My head was now in
this direction, now in that, for the fear of a surprise was
strong in my mind.

Then a thought struck me. Perhaps he was more in

need of me than I was of him. Maybe the man who shot
the arrow was only a decoy to lead him into a trap.
Could it be possible that he had been captured and
killed while I was loitering there in idleness?

My mind was running on with one thought chasing the 160

other. My nerves were jumping like strings. I grasped
the bow in my hand and began to run. I took the same
course as the scrivener. With all my speed I leaped over
roots of trees, rocks and what lay in my path. I covered
twice the space that an arrow could fly. I went out of
my course and made a wide circle through the woods. I
wound in and about here and there so that finally I
returned to the spot from which I had set out. Not a
sound did I hear. Not a trace of a human being did I
discover. It was as though I were standing in the
emptiness of a desert.

I sat down on a rock to think the matter over. The more

I pondered, the deeper the mystery became. To add to
my concern the sun was sending slanting rays from the
west. By that I was sure that in another half hour it
would be dark and in that sea of enemies I would have
to shift for myself.
I resolved that I would make one more search. I got to
my feet with much misgiving and bent my steps once
again through the woods. I had not gone ten paces
when I came across a dark body huddled up against the
root of a tree. It was in a spot where the shadows were
thickest and I had to peer closely to observe it.

Then I received a shock that went through me like the 161

stab of a dagger, for there face down in the grass lay
the scrivener. In the middle of his back stuck an arrow.
He must have been dragged from the place where he
was killed, for his shoes were gone and his coat was
ripped and torn under the arm-pits, and the old hat
which he wore was crushed down over his head as
though his murderer had flattened it.

With a gulp in my throat as big as an apple I stooped

and shook him by the arm. He was stone dead for he
moved with the heaviness of a log. Then I arose and
took my hat in my hands to mutter a prayer. In the next
second a hand as hard as iron and as strong as a vise
was laid on my shoulder. I turned my head. In the
growing darkness I looked into a face that was frowning
as black as night. The fellow was of about the same size
as myself. He had on a coat and trousers such as the
soldiers wear only they were threadbare and very
ragged. A rough cap was pulled down over his eyes and
a loose scarf was wound about his throat and came up
over his chin. As he grinned at me I remember that a
pair of silver ear-rings shook menacingly from his ears.

The sight of him made me as limp as a rag. I realized

instantly all that had happened. The bow fell from my
grasp and I turned helplessly away.
“Forward!” a rough voice commanded. At the same time
I was shoved roughly in the direction of the highway.

162
 CHAPTER XVI
THE SCRIVENER TURNS TRAITOR

I stumbled along over the uneven ground with my

captor at my back. By the time we reached the road it
was pitch dark. The trees grew on either side of us like
a great dark wall. There was no light save the
glimmering of the new moon and an occasional star or
two.

For the first half hour I was as docile as a lamb, for I 163
was shaken by the unexplained loss of the scrivener and
by the seriousness of my own plight. My captor never
uttered a word. Indeed I would not have been aware of
his presence had it not been for the crunching of the
stones under his feet and a cautioning pinch on the arm
when I lagged in my gait.

But I soon found a ray of hope in my situation and new

and daring thoughts popped up in my mind. It was
easily two miles to the inn. We were utterly alone. The
thought of what would happen to me once I fell into De
Marsac’s power strengthened my resolution. I was
determined, if I could ferret out a means, that I would
escape and take my chances again in the woods.

I tossed the question about in my brain. The night was

warm for the season of the year. I had on a heavy jerkin
of deer-hide that was beginning to be uncomfortable. If
I took it off, I should certainly find relief. I drew one arm
out slowly with a grunt to let my captor know that I was
suffering from the heat. Then I had it entirely free. I
rolled it up into folds as though I was going to tuck it
under my arm. When I had it ready, I wheeled on my
heel and with a swift swing hurled it with all my
strength into his face!

I started to run. In that one moment of his confusion I 164

had to make the best of my opportunity. In three strides
I had gotten a start. My feet flew over the hard ground
as they never flew before. A certain joy filled my heart
that I was on my way to freedom. A few more strides
and I was headed for the trees. It was my only
salvation, for once I could lose myself in the darkness of
the woods my captor would have his own trouble in
finding me.

I jumped over the ditch that lined the road with the
swiftness of a hare. I was making good headway up the
side of the bank when my feet were suddenly entangled
and I fell my whole length on the sod. It was the coat
that I had thrown into my captor’s face. He was more
alert than I had reckoned. He must have recovered
instantly from his surprise and have started after me.
With an aim that was as accurate as it was quick he was
able to enmesh my feet as I ran.

He was upon me like a cat. With a jerk at my collar he

landed me on my feet. Then with a shove so violent
that his fist dug into my ribs he urged me on ahead.

“One trick more,” he growled, “and it will be the end of

you.”

I took the affair evenly enough. It was a chance in

which I failed. But, even at that, I was resolved that at
the next opportunity, I would try again.

Throughout the length of that march I tormented him to 165

the full. At times I walked as fast as my legs could carry
me, thinking to wear him out. I expected him to catch
me again by the collar and command me to go more
slowly, but I met only with disappointment. Every time I
turned he was at my heels breathing as smoothly as if
he were sitting in a chair. Then I lagged. I drew my feet
after me as though they were a weight. I zigzagged
from one side of the road to the other. I stopped to pick
up a stick that lay in my path and took to swishing the
weeds along the edges of the highway. In a word I tried
all manner of nonsense to worry and anger him with the
notion that at the end he would call me to account. I
had hopes that in case he fell into a quarrel with me, it
would come to an open fight in which I was sure I
would have as great advantage as he.

My pranks came suddenly to an end. I had forgotten the

dagger which I still had concealed in my shirt. Surely I
could make use of it, even if my captor had his bow and
arrows, if I chose a moment when he was off his guard.

I steadied myself and walked along in the middle of the

road. I glanced over my shoulder and at the same time
felt for the weapon. The haft was near my hand. In a
second I could draw it forth and take my enemy by
surprise. Slowly and more slowly I advanced. I did not
turn again but listened intently for the crunching of the
stones under his feet. By the sound I could measure the
distance between him and me. When he came near
enough I could——

“Do you want to die?” His voice came like a sound from 166
the tomb. So surprised was I that I wheeled about.
“—die?” I repeated. “What do you mean?”

“Get that thought out of your head!” he commanded.

My hopes fell. I knew now for the first time that I had a
man of more than usual insight and cunning to deal
with. If I were to try any further tricks, they must be
managed with the utmost skill and daring.

We went on. The moon rose higher in the heavens. The

trees waved their long branches over our heads. The
road twisted and turned like a snake. One scheme after
another came into my head, but I cast them all aside,
for with his alertness and the quickness of his mind my
captor had a hold on me as firm as chains.

Of a sudden the road bent. As we turned the corner the

dull light from the windows of the inn shone before us.
To make sure that I would not make a final break for
freedom, the fellow behind me grasped me by the arm.

In a few steps we were at the inn door. It was standing 167

open. The old dust-covered lanthorn was hanging from
the ceiling in the middle of the room, sputtering forth its
uncertain yellow light. To my dismay I saw De Marsac
sitting directly under it at the table. He seemed
impatient for he was twisting his mustache with the
thumb and forefinger of one hand and drumming
nervously with the other.

My captor had just shoved me across the threshold. He

opened his mouth to speak when two fellows in the
garb of common soldiers brushed roughly past. Their
faces were white from fear, and from the way they were
breathing I judged that they had been running. They
threw themselves at De Marsac’s feet.
“My lord!” they cried. “The highwayman of Tours is
running wild in the forest! He has shot three of your
men already. If you will——”

My captor broke him off. He advanced with his chest

thrown out and his head high in the air.

“The highwayman of Tours is dead!” he growled in a

voice deep in his throat. “I shot him with my own hand.
His body lies under a tree about a league to the south
on the left of the road. To prove it, here is the boy who
accompanied him.” He stopped for a moment and gazed
proudly at De Marsac. “My lord,” he went on, “the fifty
crowns that you have offered as a reward is mine!”

De Marsac rose slowly from his seat. He stuffed his

hands in his pockets and let his eye roam over me. He
smacked his lips and smiled, as though I was a tender
morsel he was about to devour.

“I was glad you weren’t hanged this morning,” he said 168

with a sly leer. “If you had died, my scheme would have
gone astray. I’m going to care for you now like a bird in
a cage. I’m going to send you down the river to a safe,
snug place where you will come to no harm.” He rubbed
his hands together like a merchant who has just made a
clever deal. “When your brother sees fit to surrender his
estates, I shall give you back to him. Till then——” He
raised his arm and snapped his fingers in the air.

He turned to the fellow who had taken me and clapped

him on the back.

“You have earned every groat of your reward, my man,”

he said, and drew from an inside pocket a leather purse.
“I am proud of you.” Then he counted out upon the
table the fifty crowns in glittering pieces of gold.
My captor was beside himself from joy and bashfulness
—joy, that he had been the lucky one to effect my
capture, bashful, that he was made so much of by so
great a person as De Marsac. He wanted to mutter a
word of thanks, but he choked in trying it, so that all he
could do was to hang his head and turn his face aside.

But after he had put the money in his jerkin, he took me 169
by the arm and led me to a place at the far end of the
room. By merest chance it was the very seat I had
occupied the night before.

“You have been the means of making me a rich man,

lad,” he puffed as he sat down. “And I’m going to feast
you to your heart’s content for it.”

The landlord came—the same wiry hatchet-faced fellow

who had taken my dagger. Not a sign of recognition
showed on his face. As though he had never laid eyes
on me before, he bowed graciously to us, asked us what
we would eat and was off.

While we sat waiting, I ran my eyes searchingly around

the room. In the semidarkness of the old lanthorn, I
noticed De Marsac sitting over his supper with the same
smile upon his face. Soldiers came in and out, some of
them to bring reports to their master, others to snatch a
bite and to make off again.

I rested my gaze upon my captor. The cap was still

drawn down half way over his eyes. The flaring red
scarf hung about his neck, reaching well up under his
chin. A scowl crossed my brow. I fastened a look on him
that was filled with hate and chagrin. His two beady
eyes twinkled their strange light into mine as though
they were laughing at me. The corners of his lips curled
slightly up in amusement. Then he winked slyly at me
as though there was something I ought to understand.

I grew interested. As though he were a curiosity, I 170

began to examine him more closely. The shine of those
eyes and the slight arch of his nose seemed strangely
familiar to me.

“You like to eat, don’t you?” he asked, but in a low tone

and in a voice that was different from the heavy growl
that he had used on our way to the inn.

I leaned towards him across the table. He shot an

inquiring glance around the room. Then he put his
forefinger straight over his lips. It was a signal that I
must be on my guard. With the same motion he let the
scarf fall from his chin.

I nearly tumbled from the chair. Of all the surprises of

my life this was the greatest. For the man whose
prisoner I was, who had sold me to De Marsac for a
handful of gold, who had betrayed me as though I were
the meanest dog, was the man whom I for the past
days had considered my closest friend—the scrivener!

I opened my mouth and gasped.

“You!” was all I could say.

“Pist!” he cautioned.

“I thought you were dead!” I went on.

“Dead?” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “Not

much.”
“Why, I saw you lying there under the tree,” I argued. “I 171
touched you and you didn’t stir.”

“No, you didn’t,” he contradicted, “not me.”

“Why, your clothes——” I began.

He waved his finger before my face.

“Ah,” he remarked. “There’s where you are jumping at

conclusions. It’s a lesson you’ll have to learn, and you
might as well begin now—you should never judge a
man by his clothes.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“Why did you do this?” I demanded finally.

“To save your life—and mine,” he answered blandly.

“There were too many of them in the woods.”

“Don’t you realize that this will be the end of me?”

“No,” he replied, “it’s only the beginning.”

“Where will they take me?” I asked.

“Down the valley of the Loire. Keep your ears and eyes
open,” he said with all seriousness.

“—and what about you?”

“I’m going back,” he replied. “The country’s too

dangerous.”

“Will you tell my brother never to give up the estates—

no matter what happens?” I asked, “—even if I’m a
prisoner in De Marsac’s castle for life?”
“It won’t be necessary,” he said. “You’ll never see De
Marsac’s castle.”

172
 CHAPTER XVII
ON THE HIGHWAY

That was a long night. I fell asleep with my head in my

arms over the table with the scrivener opposite me. De
Marsac took no chances of my escape. He left four men
in the room, two to stand guard in turn while the others
snatched a wink of sleep. After he had cleared the
plates and dishes away the landlord disappeared. Once
in a while I awoke and looked around. But this time I
was sure there would be no rescue, no helping hand.

The first streaks of dawn were struggling in at the little

window when I got to my feet. My muscles were as sore
as if I had been dragged a mile through a mire. I
yawned and stretched myself and listened for a moment
to the birds chirping and quarreling in the ivy that
covered the outer walls of the inn.

One of my guards brought breakfast for us all. It was 173

then that I observed for the first that my companion,
the scrivener, was nowhere to be seen. He must have
slipped out in the dead of night, unnoticed. The men
looked at each other in question, puzzled, but I smiled
to myself. I knew it was one of those little tricks that he
so dearly loved to play.

We went once again out on the highway. The sun was

up big and red. Three of the men remained at the inn,
but the fourth, a fellow called Pierre, was to lead me far
down the valley of the Loire. For days I was to be his
prisoner. I was to eat and sleep with him. He was to be
all the companion I was to have, so I determined I
would make the best of it and be on as friendly a
footing as I could.

But I found from the first that he was the surliest and
coarsest man alive. During the afternoon, he scarcely
uttered a word, but went on grumbling and muttering to
himself. His face wore a perpetual scowl. He kicked
viciously at the stones along the road as if they were
actually his enemies. He complained of the long journey
ahead of us.

“One man gets the money,” he said under his breath.

“Another does the work.”

“You don’t have to go,” I said. “If you say the word, I’ll 174
leave you.”

He shot a look at me that was enough to kill me.

“Try it,” he growled. And his jaws came together with a

snap.

After that I shrank back into my shell. I knew I was in

company with a savage. At the slightest sign of trifling, I
was convinced, he would stick a dagger into my heart
and leave me on the road to die.

At noon we halted in the shade of the trees along the

side of the highway. He took from his shoulder a packet
which he had brought from the inn. In it were a lump of
cheese and a length of hard bread. With as much
deliberation as he could show, he took a dagger from
his coat and wiped the blade two or three times over
the knees of his trousers. Then he cut the cheese into
squares and tore the bread into pieces with his hands.
As though I were only an animal to be fed, he tossed
them to me through the air.

The first piece flew past me and fell into the dirt. The
second landed at my feet. Another caught me in the
chest and tumbled in between my folded hands. I was
hungry, of course, but the manner of the man sickened
me. So I sat there glaring into his face.

He fell to with the appetite of a bear. He stuffed one 175

lump after another between his teeth and shoved them
into his mouth with his thumb. He gulped to swallow
and that so hard that I thought he would choke. When
he had eaten twice as much as an ordinary man he rose
and threw what remained into my lap.

“You should starve,” he said, “—you spy!”

“I am no spy,” I declared.

He made no answer but gave me a look that was filled

with hate.

I picked up the pieces that were clean and began to eat

slowly. Thoughts of my home and of the comfort I had
there started to run through my mind. A burning anger
rose within me that I should be treated thus by a fellow
who was no equal of mine—who should have been glad
to run at my beck and call.

Without a word of warning he came over and caught

me by the collar. With a swift jerk he landed me on my
feet. I was amazed at the suddenness of it and the
enormous strength of the man. I was sure that he could
have held me in the air with his outstretched arm as
easily as I could have held a bundle of straw.
We were on the road again, both going along in silence. 176
During the afternoon, I noticed small groups of men,
some clad as ordinary soldiers, some in finer dress like
captains and officers, others on horseback with armor
and coats of mail. I had seen the like before in the
village at home to be sure, for in my day there was
always war in this or that part of France to attract the
minds of men. But what struck me was that these were
all going in the same direction (towards the west); they
all seemed bent on the same errand; and they were so
numerous that I was set wondering.

That night we found no place in an inn. The common

room was crowded to the doors with swashbuckling
soldiers of every kind. Loud talk and boasting filled the
air, together with the clanking of swords, the thumping
of heavy boots on the floor, the clamoring of men
hungry for their supper, quarrels over this or that and
even blows struck and returned.

We were lucky to get any food at all, but the worst of it

all was that we were forced to sleep in the open. Pierre
found a spot in the shelter of the barn where we would
be protected from the wind. He brought an armful of
straw and scattered it over the ground. Then he took
from his pockets two strands of rope and bade me lie
down. He tied one strand firmly about my right wrist,
the other about my left. The ends he drew apart in
opposite directions, tying one to a post at the corner of
the barn, the other he fastened on the other side of me
to a stone that was imbedded in the soil.

It was as though I was stretched out like a cross. I 177

could move my hands outwards as far as I liked. But
when I drew them together as far as the ropes allowed,
they remained more than a foot apart. If I rolled over
on my side the one arm was behind me and the other in
front. If I had tried to get to my feet, I wouldn’t have
been halfway up before I would have been forced down
again.

It was thus I passed the night. You can imagine that I

slept only in fits and starts, for as soon as I was in a
doze I was sure to stir and the tautness of the ropes,
with the pain awakened me.

The day came as a relief. My captor let me lie until he

brought me my breakfast. Then he loosed my bonds.
After we had eaten we started out on the journey that
was becoming irksome and even a torment.

That day passed about the same as the first. We toiled

along the road for the most part in gloomy silence. The
soldiers were pouring in thicker and thicker. Sometimes
as many as two hundred of them in a single body
passed us so that we were forced to leave the highway
and stand on the banks to let them go by.

At another time later on a great lord from the east 178

swept along. He was dressed in shining armor from
head to heel. In his helmet waved a plume of feathers
dyed red and white and a broadsword hung in its
glittering scabbard by his side. In his train were at least
five hundred followers, some of them of almost as high
degree as he; others with long lances rode directly
behind him, while further back a troop of archers
completed the array.

It was a sight to admire. From where we had halted on

the side of the road, my captor pointed at them with his
finger.

“That,” said he, “is what you have come to see.”

His grimness puzzled me.

“Has a war broken out?” I asked.

“Not yet,” was the answer, “—and it will never be called

a war. These men are on their way to crush the Black
Prince of England.”

I drew a long breath.

“—the Black Prince!” I exclaimed. “Why, you can’t do

that. There is not a leader alive who can cope with him
in the field.”

A slow smile came over his face.

“Within a week, there will be fifteen thousand men on

their way down this valley,” he replied. “The Black Prince
is far off towards the west. He is as ignorant of this
preparation as a child.”

“But he’ll learn of it?” I said.

My captor shook his head.

“He’ll be struck with the suddenness of a thunderbolt. 179

We’re going to cut him off at Poitiers—when he starts
back to his headquarters at Bordeaux.” He snapped his
fingers in contempt. “He has seven thousand men who
are half starved, weak from long marches and disease.
What can they do against these?”

He pointed with pride at the men marching past.

“When the Black Prince is a prisoner of the King of

France,” he went on, scowling in my face with a wicked
grin, “we shall move against Normandy——”
“The Norman Barons can defeat any army the French
can send against them!” I cried. “They have proved that
more than once.”

He clenched his fingers over my arm till the pain of it

shot up through my shoulder.

“No, they won’t,” he said, gritting his teeth. “They won’t

have time to unite.”

“I see it all now,” I cried again. “That is why De Marsac

is so anxious. He thinks he has a claim on our estates
already. He can’t wait——”

A hard expression covered his countenance.

“Before the snow flies I shall be toasting my shins

before the fire-place in your house,” my captor boasted.
“De Marsac has promised that I shall be the bailiff when
he is master there.”

A long breath like a sob broke from my throat. It was

plain to me now for the first time why I was sent on this
errand down the valley of the Loire.

“Have you ever heard of a youth called ‘Charles of 180

Gramont’?” I demanded.

“Of course,” came the answer, “he’s the son of the old
Count. He was a prisoner of ours for a while—but
escaped——”

“—escaped?” The word jumped from my mouth.

“Yes,” was the reply. “Gone. Like smoke in the air.”

“He has joined the Black Prince!” I exclaimed. “I am
glad of that. He will let him know of the danger he is
in.”

My captor threw back his head and uttered a low grunt

that was meant for a laugh.

“A fly couldn’t get out of this valley—or into it—unless

we knew it,” he said. “That lad has either starved to
death or is hiding somewhere in the woods.”

A thrill of joy ran up and down every nerve in my body.

For a while I stood staring at the soldiers passing before
us, but with eyes that did not see. A world of new
thoughts was seething in my brain. Then a fresh notion
came to me.

“Just to think how I have wasted my time,” I said slyly

to my captor. “I was sent here to find him. I might as
well have remained at home.”

He turned on me with a knowing look.

“You weren’t sent here for any purpose of the kind,” he 181
answered with as much cunning as he could show. “You
came to learn of this army that is passing down the
valley of the Loire. You were to find out the numbers of
it, where it was heading, how soon it would be ready to
strike. In one word you were sent here as a spy!”

If I had had the strength, I would have felled him with a

blow. Yet for all that I now realized that every syllable
he uttered was the naked truth. If I had been told in the
beginning that I was to act as a sneak, (as he said “a
spy”) I would have refused boldly and I was sent in
blindness to follow a false trail. I was duped into a
position that was contrary to my ideas of manliness and
honor.

I had information that the Black Prince would give half a 182
kingdom to know. The cruelties of De Marsac and the
men whom he had set on my heels were as humiliating
as ever I had suffered. His trickery and deceit were of
the kind that no man of self-respect would practice. It
was his aim to drive my brother and me from the home
which our family had enjoyed for generations. All these
things galled me and drove me to a kind of desperation.
The thought came slowly to me to be sure, but while I
stood gazing on the soldiers whose mission was to
destroy the only friend that Normandy had at this time
—the Black Prince—I resolved that I would go no
further with my captor than force compelled me. I
would watch every opportunity. I would play the fox to
the last degree. When the time came I would try once
more to escape. If I could get through that circle of men
who guarded the Valley of the Loire I would risk my
very life to inform the Black Prince of the plans that
were ripening against him, for I knew that if I did, I
would be saving my home in Normandy.

183
 CHAPTER XVIII
ESCAPE!

My chance came three days later. During this time we

had traveled a long way. When the sun was up we
plodded along footsore and weary. At night we lay down
wherever we were able to find a soft place in the grass
or under the protection of a tree. The inns were
crowded, not only with soldiers but with all the riff-raff
of humanity. Wandering jugglers and mountebanks,
sleight-of-hand artists, men with bears on ropes, quack
doctors of medicine who sold simples made of the roots
of marvelous trees,—all these and more lined the
highway. Their booths were set up alongside the inns.
They barked and called to the passers-by. They were
the followers of an army who sapped the soldiers of
their hard earned pay.

As for myself I was almost sick of life. My companion 184

was in the sourest of moods. He growled at his ill luck
and laid the blame for it at my door. He took every
occasion to make me miserable, now by threats, again
by actual brutality. He gave me only the coarsest fare
which he could purchase in the inns. And to make me
the more miserable he chose the daintiest morsels for
himself and taunted me while he shoved them down his
throat.

By the third day we were come almost to the

boundaries of the Kingdom of France. To the west of us
lay a stretch of country which was as wild as a desert. It
was only sparsely inhabited. The inhabitants owed no
allegiance to any ruler alive. They were neither on the
side of the Black Prince nor the King, for the country
was half way between the two. In one word, it was the
stamping ground for war and whoever had the upper
hand was for the time its lord.

It was about noon when we left the highway, for here it

took a sharp turn towards the south, and continued our
journey over a narrow path through the woods. There
was a winding path that was beaten bare—used by
many feet. My captor seemed well acquainted with the
lay of the land for he went ahead with all the confidence
in the world and indeed with more buoyancy than he
had shown on the entire journey.

At length we came to the banks of the stream, at a 185

place with a long shelving landing made of smooth
stones, paved clear down to the water’s edge. A rusted
length of chain and a long boat-hook lay in the grass. To
my observation it was a landing for a ferry.

My companion bade me halt.

“Where’s the boat?” he asked, gazing around. “They

told me that the boat would be here to take us across.”

He picked up the chain and threw it down again. He

walked to and fro several times as though he was
turning a question over in his mind. Then he came to a
stop before me.

“Can you swim?” he demanded.

“Yes,” I answered.
He sat down on a rock and began to remove his shoes.
To throw him off his guard I did the same. When we
had stripped ourselves he bade me tie my clothes into a
firm bundle and fasten them around my neck. We went
into the water a little at a time. The current was fairly
swift, for it gathered here to broaden out into a wide
sweep far beyond. I cast my eyes carefully down the
river and saw that in the middle of this broadening lay
an island, not very big to be sure, but covered with tall
trees that grew so thick that the branches were woven
into one another.

“It is now or never,” I thought.

In the next moment we were beyond our depths. I saw 186

at once that my captor was as much at home in the
water as he was on land. He swam with long, easy
strokes and with no sense of fatigue. He kept his head
continually turned toward me as a cat watches a mouse.
I for my part paid no heed to him, for I was busy with
thoughts of my own.

Slowly, a bit at a time, I began to loose the knot that

bound my clothes about my neck. When it was entirely
free the bundle floated off. The weight of my shoes
soon sank it beneath the surface. With a cry I dived
after it. I drew myself as far under the water as I could.
I put all the strength I had into every stroke. I held my
breath so that no bubbles would arise and inform my
captor where I was. It was down-stream with the
current in a straight line.

I rose to the surface to fill my lungs and looked back.

He was swimming after me, lashing the water with his
great hands like some monster. His face was heavy with
anger and his teeth shone white like the fangs of a wolf
when he breathed.

Once again I dived as far as I could go. This time I did

not swim straight ahead but swerved off towards the
left. If I could throw him off long enough for him to get
beyond me in the current, I would have the better of
him and be surer of my escape.

But he was as wary as a fox. When I came up for the 187

second time he was in the middle of the river but
moving more slowly. His eyes roamed continually
searching for some trace of me. When he saw that I
had edged off to one side, he raised his fist out of the
water and shook it viciously in my direction and shouted
a threat which I did not clearly hear.

I was down again under the surface. To puzzle him the

more, I made for it with all speed towards the island. If
I once set my foot upon it I could lose him among the
trees. I could swim to the mainland that lay either on
the right or the left. It would be a chase in which I
would have an even chance. If I had a speck of luck, it
would mean my deliverance.

The thought strengthened me. This time I held my

breath so long that I felt I would burst. When I arose I
cast a swift glance around. To my surprise he was
nowhere to be seen. He had gone under the water. He
was swimming somewhere, perhaps quite near to
grapple with me in case he could lay hands on me.
Perhaps he had decided that I was bound for the island
and that, if he could get there before me, he could
conceal himself behind a tree and pounce on me as I
came to land.
I lingered a moment in doubt. To fall into a trap would 188
be the height of folly. I was now as good as free. I was
near the left bank of the stream. Not far off was the dry
land and grass and tall trees. A new enemy was better
than an old one. I took the risk. With slow even strokes
I made my way to the shore and climbed in among the
high weeds on the sloping bank.

You may be certain that every move I made was with

the greatest caution. I hid myself from view and peered
out through the brush. Before I drew half a dozen
breaths I saw my captor rise to the surface far down the
stream. He looked in every direction. Then as though he
had made up his mind he swam swiftly with the current
straight for the island and drew himself up on the shore.

It was close on to dusk. The sun was shining over the

tops of the trees to the west. A soft breeze started
which, wet as I was, sent the shivers through my body.
There was one thing sure. I could not go far with no
clothes. Nor could I risk sleeping in the open naked as I
was, for it would be the death of me.

I resolved that, come what might, as soon as it got 189

dark, I would swim for the island. There would be
danger, to be sure. But I was certain that my man
would be there drying his clothes. I would be in the
protection of the trees. There was no light. If I could
come upon him unawares, I might snatch enough to
cover me. Then I could make off with all my speed and
lose him in the woods.

It was worth the try. Indeed it was the only thing I

could do. I sat huddled there on the bank of the stream
until the sun had disappeared and the blackness of
night covered the earth. I slid into the water. With long,
easy strokes I headed for the island. In a few minutes I
was dragging myself up on dry land.

190
 CHAPTER XIX
ON THE ISLAND

I was chilled to the bone. The touch of my feet on the

hard earth made my going slow and cautious. Now and
then I stubbed my toe on a sharp stone that made me
wince. But even with that I advanced in among the
trees.

My ears were keyed for the slightest sound and my eyes

glanced round with the wariness of a cat’s. I stopped
once in a while to listen for the cracking of a twig, which
was the surest sign that my man was near. I scarcely
breathed. It was one step after the other, and every
time I put my foot down I felt the ground as carefully as
you would with your hand.

After a quarter of an hour I had advanced, maybe two 191

or three hundred paces. My eyes were so accustomed
to the dark that the trunks of the trees were dimly
outlined against the background of the night. As I
peered on ahead it seemed that a faint glow of a far off
light shone like a veil through the woods. I halted. It
must be my captor who by some means that I could not
puzzle out had lighted a fire.

I groped around on the ground until I found a stout

stick that would serve me as a weapon. With this firmly
grasped in my hand I grew all the bolder, so that with
less caution than before I went on towards the place
where I was sure there was the light.

In another quarter of an hour I was leaning against the

trunk of a tree from which position I could plainly see
the blaze. It was in the centre of an open space in the
forest, on bare hard ground covered with stones and
boulders. I wanted to make certain of myself so I
moved in a broad circle around the fire, darting a glance
here, a glance there so as not to be taken by surprise.

At length I came back to the point from where I had 192

started. Not a soul did I notice on my rounds. I walked
in closer and closer with the club balanced ready in my
hand. I could feel the heat. The fire blazed and shot off
sparks high into the branches of the trees. Then at last I
was able to spy the form of a man sitting on a rock. He
had a long stick with which he was stirring up the
embers. He seemed to be without a care in the world,
but what amazed me most was that he was not naked,
as I expected my captor to be, but fully clothed.

From where I was, of course, I saw him only dimly. I

watched him for a long while toying with the fire as idly
as a child. Then he rose and moved towards the left, for
the smoke was floating in his face. He must have been
blinded for the moment, for he put his fist in his eyes to
rub them.

I was trembling with anxiety. I gave one more glance

about in every direction. Suddenly I noticed a form—the
naked figure of a man—crawling on his hands and
knees from out the fringe of woods. He had a club
bigger and heavier than my own, which he pushed
before him on the ground. Like a flash he straightened
himself. The man who was fully clad had his back to him
and was still rubbing his eyes. It was my captor, who
now began to run forward like an animal eager to fell its
prey. He lifted the club high over his head. His eyes
shone with savage eagerness in the light of the fire and
a grin of victory spread over his countenance.

For a second I was paralyzed with fright. Then I 193

collected myself. I cast all caution aside and ran likewise
out of the woods. Just as the club was poised in the air
ready to fall I called out in a terrified voice the words,
“Look out!”

My voice was pitched high and resounded in the silence

of the woods like the crack of a crashing thunderbolt.

The man who was clad jumped as though he had been

stuck with a spear and edged off to one side. The club
came down. It was a little beside its mark, but even
then it struck the man on the side and knocked the
breath out of him so that he fell in pain to the ground.

I had betrayed myself to my captor. He had heard my

voice and turned. I was coming up at full speed with my
staff high in the air. I did not hesitate. With a swinging
motion, before he could right himself, I caught him as
hard a blow as I could deal and sent him face down
sprawling in the dirt.

I had no time to lose. My captor would soon struggle to

his feet. I knew I was no match for him in a hand-to-
hand combat. I would have to have aid. So I went over
to the man whom he had knocked senseless and caught
him by the shoulder. I shook him to bring him the more
quickly to his senses. I turned him over so that I could
see his face. Then I let out a gasp that shook me from
my heels to my head. Never in the whole course of my
life was I more amazed for there before me on the
ground was the lad I had come so far to seek, the son
of the old Count of Gramont, Charles!

With my heart thumping like a hammer, I did all in my 194

power to bring him around. I chafed his hands and
temples. I took him under the arm-pits and lifted him to
his feet. Slowly he opened his eyes. There was a look of
terror in them first. Then he blinked. It was as though
he could hardly trust his senses. He grasped me by the
shoulder. He took in a deep breath. A smile of
recognition played about his face and I knew that he
understood.

“Quick!” I whispered, and pointed to my captor who was

now raising himself on one arm.

In a second he threw off his stupor. He ran back to the

fire and seized a length of a limb of a tree which he
could use as a weapon against his savage foe.

It was none too soon. The fellow had the strength and
vitality of an ox. He scrambled to his feet even while
Charles was picking up the stick. With his big body
swinging from side to side he came running with his
arms outstretched like a bear. Charles brought his
weapon down. It was a heavy blow, but the fellow
caught it on his arm and it glanced off as lightly as if it
were against the trunk of a tree. Then with a murmur of
hate he rushed in.

You may suppose that I was not standing there in 195

idleness. As soon as I saw what was happening, I
wrapped my fist about my club. I knew that the first
blow would be my last. I put every speck of strength in
it and made the aim as accurate as my haste would
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