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the strife. Have you any idea by which road they will enter the forest,

or what are their intentions?"

"I know not," Cuthbert said; "all that I gathered was that the earl

intended to sweep the forest, and to put an end to the breaches of the

laws, not to say of the rough treatment that his foresters have met with

at your hands. You had best, methinks, be off before Sir Walter and his

heavily-armed men are here. The forest, large as it is, will scarce hold

you both, and methinks you had best shift your quarters to Langholm Chase

until the storm has passed."

"To Langholm be it, then," said Cnut, "though I love not the place. Sir

John of Wortham is a worse neighbour by far than the earl. Against the

latter we bear no malice, he is a good knight and a fair lord; and could

he free himself of the Norman notions that the birds of the air, and the

beasts of the field, and the fishes of the water, all belong to Normans,

and that we Saxons have no share in them, I should have no quarrel with

him. He grinds not his neighbours, he is content with a fair tithe of the

produce, and as between man and man is a fair judge without favour. The

baron is a fiend incarnate; did he not fear that he would lose by so

doing, he would gladly cut the throats, or burn, or drown, or hang every

Saxon within twenty miles of his hold. He is a disgrace to his order, and

some day when our band gathers a little stronger, we will burn his nest

about his ears."

"It will be a hard nut to crack," Cuthbert said, laughing. "With such

arms as you have in the forest the enterprise would be something akin to

scaling the skies."

"Ladders and axes will go far, lad, and the Norman men-at-arms have

learned to dread our shafts. But enough of the baron; if we must be his

neighbours for a time, so be it."

"You have heard, my mates," he said, turning to his comrades gathered

around him, "what Cuthbert tells us. Are you of my opinion, that it is

better to move away till the storm is past, than to fight against heavy

odds, without much chance of either booty or victory?"

A general chorus proclaimed that the outlaws approved of the proposal for

a move to Langholm Chase. The preparations were simple. Bows were taken

down from the boughs on which they were hanging, quivers slung across the

backs, short cloaks thrown over the shoulders. The deer was hurriedly

dismembered, and the joints fastened to a pole slung on the shoulders of

two of the men. The drinking-cups, some of which were of silver, looking

strangely out of place among the rough horn implements and platters, were

bundled together, carried a short distance and dropped among some thick

bushes for safety; and then the band started for Wortham.

With a cordial farewell and many thanks to Cuthbert, who declined their

invitations to accompany them, the retreat to Langholm commenced.

Cuthbert, not knowing in which direction the bands were likely to

approach, remained for a while motionless, intently listening.

In a quarter of an hour he heard the distant note of a bugle.

It was answered in three different directions, and Cuthbert, who knew

every path and glade of the forest, was able pretty accurately to surmise

those by which the various bands were commencing to enter the wood.

Knowing that they were still a long way off, he advanced as rapidly as he

could in the direction in which they were coming. When by the sound of

distant voices and the breaking of branches he knew that one at least of

the parties was near at hand, he rapidly climbed a thick tree and

ensconced himself in the branches, and there watched, secure and hidden

from the sharpest eye, the passage of a body of men-at-arms fully a

hundred strong, led by Sir Walter himself, accompanied by some half

dozen of his knights.

When they had passed, Cuthbert again slipped down the tree and made at

all speed for home. He reached it, so far as he knew without having been

observed by a single passer-by.

After a brief talk with his mother, he started for the castle, as his

appearance there would divert any suspicion that might arise; and it

would also appear natural that seeing the movements of so large a body of

men, he should go up to gossip with his acquaintances there.

When distant a mile from Evesham, he came upon a small party.

On a white palfrey rode Margaret, the little daughter of the earl. She

was accompanied by her nurse and two retainers on foot.

Cuthbert--who was a great favourite with the earl's daughter, for whom

he frequently brought pets, such as nests of young owlets, falcons, and

other creatures--was about to join the party when from a clump of trees

near burst a body of ten mounted men.

Without a word they rode straight at the astonished group. The

retainers were cut to the ground before they had thought of drawing a

sword in defence.

The nurse was slain by a blow with a battle-axe, and Margaret, snatched

from her palfrey, was thrown across the saddle-bow of one of the mounted

men, who then with his comrades dashed off at full speed.

CHAPTER II.

A RESCUE.

The whole of the startling scene of the abduction of the Earl of

Evesham's daughter occupied but a few seconds. Cuthbert was so astounded

at the sudden calamity that he remained rooted to the ground at the spot

where, fortunately for himself, unnoticed by the assailants, he had stood

when they first burst from their concealment.

For a short time he hesitated as to the course he should take.

The men-at-arms who remained in the castle were scarce strong enough to

rescue the child, whose captors would no doubt be reinforced by a far

stronger party lurking near.

The main body of Sir Walter's followers were deep in the recesses of the

forest, and this lay altogether out of the line for Wortham, and there

would be no chance whatever of bringing them up in time to cut off the

marauders on their way back.

There remained only the outlaws, who by this time would be in Langholm

Forest, perhaps within a mile or two of the castle itself.

The road by which the horsemen would travel would be far longer than the

direct line across country, and he resolved at once to strain every nerve

to reach his friends in time to get them to interpose between the captors

of the Lady Margaret and their stronghold.

For an instant he hesitated whether to run back to Erstwood to get a

horse; but he decided that it would be as quick to go on foot, and far

easier so to find the outlaws.

These thoughts occupied but a few moments, and he at once started at the

top of his speed for his long run across the country.

Had Cuthbert been running in a race of hare and hound, he would assuredly

have borne away the prize from most boys of his age. At headlong pace he

made across the country, every foot of which, as far as the edge of

Langholm Chase, he knew by heart.

The distance to the woods was some twelve miles, and in an hour and a

half from the moment of his starting Cuthbert was deep within its shades.

Where he would be likely to find the outlaws he knew not; and, putting a

whistle to his lips, he shrilly blew the signal, which would, he knew, be

recognized by any of the band within hearing.

He thought that he heard an answer, but was not certain, and again dashed

forward, almost as speedily as if he had but just started.

Five minutes later a man stood in the glade up which he was running. He

recognized him at once as one of Cnut's party.

"Where are the band?" he gasped.

"Half a mile or so to the right," replied the man.

Guided by the man, Cuthbert ran at full speed, till, panting and scarce

able to speak, he arrived at the spot where Cnut's band were gathered.

In a few words he told them what had happened, and although they had just

been chased by the father of the captured child, there was not a moment

of hesitation in promising their aid to rescue her from a man whom they

regarded as a far more bitter enemy, both of themselves and their race.

"I fear we shall be too late to cut them off," Cnut said, "they have so

long a start; but at least we will waste no time in gossiping."

Winding a horn to call together some of the members of the band who had

scattered, and leaving one at the meeting-place to give instructions to

the rest, Cnut, followed by those assembled there, went off at a swinging

trot through the glades towards Wortham Castle.

After a rapid calculation of distances, and allowing for the fact that

the baron's men--knowing that Sir Walter's retainers and friends were all

deep in the forest, and even if they heard of the outrage could not be on

their traces for hours--would take matters quietly, Cnut concluded that

they had arrived in time.

Turning off, they made their way along the edge of the wood to the point

where the road from Evesham ran through the forest.

Scarcely had the party reached this point when they heard a faint

clatter of steel.

"Here they come!" exclaimed Cuthbert.

Cnut gave rapid directions, and the band took up their posts behind the

trees, on either side of the path.

"Remember," Cnut said, "above all things be careful not to hit the child,

but pierce the horse on which she is riding. The instant he falls, rush

forward. We must trust to surprise to give us the victory."

Three minutes later the head of a band of horsemen was seen through the

trees. They were some thirty in number, and, closely grouped as they were

together, the watchers behind the trees could not see the form of the

child carried in their midst.

When they came abreast of the concealed outlaws, Cnut gave a sharp

whistle, and fifty arrows flew from tree and bush into the closely

gathered party of horsemen. More than half their number fell at once;

some, drawing their swords, endeavoured to rush at their concealed foes,

while others dashed forward in the hope of riding through the snare into

which they had fallen. Cuthbert had levelled his crossbow, but had not

fired; he was watching with intense anxiety for a glimpse of the

bright-coloured dress of the child. Soon he saw a horseman separate

himself from the rest and dash forward at full speed. Several arrows flew

by him, and one or two struck the horse on which he rode.

The animal, however, kept on its way.

Cuthbert levelled 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 leapt 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

towards 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 rear-guard 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 towards 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 gave a cry of astonishment and pleasure, and without a

word wheeled his horse and galloped past back at headlong speed towards

the castle.

As Cuthbert and the party approached the gate, the earl himself,

surrounded by his knights and followers, rode out hastily from the

gate and halted in front of the little party. The litter was lowered,

and as he dismounted from his horse his daughter sprang out and leapt

into his arms.

For a few minutes the confusion and babble of tongues were too great for

anything to be heard, but Cuthbert, as soon as order was somewhat

restored, stated what had happened, and the earl was moved to fury at the

news of the outrage which had been perpetrated by the Baron of Wortham

upon his daughter and at the very gates of his castle, and also at the

thought that she should have been saved by the bravery and devotion of

the very men against whom he had so lately been vowing vengeance in the

depths of the forest.

"This is not a time," he said to Cnut, "for talking or making promises,

but be assured that henceforth the deer of Evesham Chase are as free to

you and your men as to me. Forest laws or no forest laws, I will no more

lift a hand against men to whom I owe so much. Come when you will to the