_ Oswald, who was thoroughly fatigued with the events of the last thirty-six hours, slept soundly, on an armful of rushes that his host threw down in a corner of the room for him. At eight o'clock, the man who had spoken to him on the previous evening came in.
"I have spoken to William Baird," he said. "I told him that you seemed a likely fellow. He called down the monk, and asked him several questions about you; and he told me, at last, that I could bring you up to see him. So come along, at once."
"Thanks, comrade," Oswald said, as he slung his long two-handed sword from his shoulder.
"A likely-looking young fellow, indeed," Baird said to Rotherglen, whom he had sent for to be present; "over six feet and, I should fancy, has not attained his full width.
"So you would fain take service with me?" he said.
"I want a master," Oswald replied, "and from what I hear, I am more likely to see fighting, under you, than under any other on the border."
"And you were with George Dunbar?"
"I was," Oswald replied. "But indeed, the service was not altogether to my taste, for we were always pent up in Dunbar; and, save in a street broil, there was no need to draw a sword. I was glad enough to leave his service, though in truth, I have fared but badly, since."
"Now do you question him, Rotherglen."
A number of questions were put to Oswald, concerning the names of the streets, the direction, the name of the principal inns, and the approaches to the castle. All these were satisfactorily replied to.
"He knows Dunbar, there is no question about that.
"And you can use your arms?"
"I think so."
"We will have a trial," Baird said. "A man is no use to me, who cannot use his weapon. Send Robert here."
In a minute, one of the young Bairds entered. He was a man of about twenty-five, tall and sinewy, and was accounted the best swordsman of his family.
"Cousin Robert," William Baird said, "this young fellow would enter our service; but before I take him, I must see that he knows his business. Do you take a turn with the sword with him.
"No, no, not a two-handed sword; I don't want him to be slain. Take a couple of swords from the wall. Give him another steel cap, and full body armour. That of his own would not keep out a good, downright stroke."
By the time that Oswald was armed, a number of the Bairds and their friends had assembled in the hall, hearing of what was going to take place.
"A fine young fellow, truly," Rotherglen said. "In height and width, he matches Robert well, though of course your cousin must be the more powerful, seeing that he is some four or five years older than this young fellow; who, when he reaches his age, bids fair to be well-nigh as strong a man as that monk."
Roger had just entered, with the priest.
"Well, monk," Baird said, "we are going to try the mettle of your companion of yesterday."
"I answer not for his mettle," Roger said; "but if he fights as well as he talks, he will not do discredit to himself."
As they took their places, facing each other, the lookers on, men well qualified to judge of strength and sinew, murmured to each other that it would be difficult to find a better-matched pair. They were about the same height, both stood lightly on their feet, and their figures seemed full of life and activity. Both were smiling, Robert Baird with a smile of confidence, and of assurance in his skill; while Oswald's face expressed only good temper and, as the others took it, a belief that he would, at any rate, be able to make such a defence as would assure his being taken into the Bairds' service.
The first rally, indeed, proved more than this. Robert Baird had at once taken the offensive, and showered his blows heavily down, while springing backwards and forwards with wonderful quickness and activity; but Oswald's blade ever met his, and he did not give way an inch, even when Baird most fiercely attacked him. Then suddenly he adopted the same tactics as his opponent, and pressed him so hotly that he was, several times, obliged to give ground. Oswald could twice have got in a heavy blow, but he abstained from doing so. He could see that his antagonist was a favourite among his kinsmen, and felt that, were he to discomfit him, he would excite a feeling of hostility against himself. Both, panting from their exertions, drew a step backwards and lowered their swords.
"Enough!" William Baird said, "The matter need be pushed no further. 'Tis long since I have seen so good a bout of swordplay. This young fellow has learned his business, and if, in other respects, he does as well, he will make a good recruit, indeed.
"What say you, lad? Will you join us for a month, till you see whether you like our service, and we can judge how your service will suit us? For that time you will have your living here, and drink money. After that, if we agree, you can either be a retainer here, or we will give you a holding on the moor, build you a shelter, give you a horse, and, after our next foray, a clump of cattle."
"That will suit me well," Oswald said; "and I like well the month of trial you propose."
"I will take him, if you will let me, Uncle, as my own man," Robert Baird said. "If, at the end of the month, he chooses service with us, and likes better to follow a master, with half a dozen men, than to live alone on the moors. Methinks he would make a cheery companion, and one I could take to, heartily; and indeed, during the long winters, 'tis no slight thing to have one merry fellow, who can keep one alive, and of whose mettle and skill you are well assured."
"So let it be, then, Robert. You have tried him, and yours should be the advantage. But for the month he shall remain here, under Malcolm's eye."
Oswald went down with the man, who was Baird's right hand in the hold.
"What will be my duties?" he asked.
"To keep your arms and armour ready for service."
"That will be an easy task, methinks; for I see that instead of being polished and bright, as were ours at Dunbar, the others keep their steel caps and back pieces painted a sombre colour."
The other nodded.
"Yes, our arms are for use and not for show; and when we ride by moonlight, we care not to have our presence shown, miles away, by the glint of the moon on our armour.
"You will do your turn of keeping watch and ward. Just at present there will be a good deal of that, for we have been stirring up a wasps' nest, and mayhap they may come and try to sting. When you are off duty, you will be your own master, save that you had best be within sound of the warder's horn.
"I will hand over a horse to you. For the present, it is at that croft on the opposite hill. Each of the tenants keeps two or three at our service. We have only the Bairds' own horses kept in the hold. It would be too much trouble to gather forage for those of the twenty men who always live here, and indeed, we have no room for such number.
"Mind that you drink not too much, over in the village there; for though the Bairds care not, on feast days, if the whole garrison gets drunk, so that there are enough sober to keep watch and ward, they set their faces against it at other times, seeing that it leads to broils and quarrels."
"I will take care. I like my cup, occasionally; and can drink with others, without my head getting addled, but as a rule I care not overmuch for it."
After being roughly introduced to several of the retainers as a new comrade, Oswald was left to follow his own devices. Presently, Roger came out into the courtyard.
"So you have got service, comrade," he said, in a voice that could be heard by any of those standing near. "You had better fortune than I had expected."
"That have I," he replied. "Still, I thought that it would be hard, if one who could use his sword indifferently well, and puts no great value on his life, could not find service on the border. How long do you stay here?"
This was a question that had been arranged, for had they been seen speaking privately together, it might have aroused suspicion.
"Methinks I shall stay here two days, to get rid of my leg weariness. I am not so accustomed to long marching as you are."
The real meaning of the question, as arranged, was, "Have you found out where the prisoners are kept?"
The answer meant "Yes, and it will not be difficult to get at them."
The evening before, indeed, when he returned with the priest to his chamber, they had broached a bottle together. The priest, on his part, had asked many questions as to the state of things in Edinburgh, and Dunbar; what were the opinions of people with regard to the Duke of Albany, and the Prince; and what would probably come of the coldness that was said to exist between them.
Roger was able to conceal his ignorance of these matters by saying that he knew little of what was passing, for that he had been the cellarer in the convent, and went out but little. Nevertheless, he had kept his ears open; as they rode north to Jedburgh, he had heard a good deal of talk and speculation, and was able to give various pieces of news that had not before reached the ears of the priest. He was not long in discovering that the latter was ill satisfied with his present position, and was ambitious to take part in more important affairs, and he presently said:
"I wonder, father, that a man of your ability should be content to remain as chaplain in a border hold, when there are so many opportunities beyond, for one like you, to make his way in the church."
"In truth," the priest said, "I have had such thoughts myself; and hope, some day, to see a little more of the world.
"By the way, can you read and write, brother?" he asked suddenly.
"Assuredly," Roger replied.
He guessed, at once, that the question had been put at the instigation of William Baird; who perhaps still had some doubts whether he was really a monk, and an affirmative answer would be an almost conclusive proof that he was so, for very few outside the walls of the convents, even among the nobles and knights, possessed any knowledge of letters.
"I have a missal here," the priest said carelessly, "that has somewhat troubled me, being written in a cramped hand. Perhaps you could read it for me," and, getting up, he took a roll from a closet.
Roger smiled quietly, as he turned it over. By a private mark upon it, he knew that it had been written at Alnwick, and was doubtless the proceed of some foray upon a monastery across the border. He ran his eye over it; and then, in a sonorous voice, proceeded to read it aloud.
"I thank you," the priest said, when he had finished. "Truly you are an admirable reader, and well skilled in deciphering. I wonder that you held not some more important post than that of cellarer."
Roger laughed.
"I might have done so," he said, "but in truth, I am not strict enough in matters of discipline to suit our prior, and am somewhat over fond of the wine cup. More than once, when it seemed that I might have been chosen as reader to the monastery, I fell into disgrace, and lost my chance; and indeed, I was far better pleased with my post, there, than if they had appointed me sub-prior."
Any vestige of doubt there might have been in the priest's mind had vanished, as Roger read; for he was conscious that he, himself, could not have picked up a manuscript and have deciphered it so easily and fluently.
"It must be trying to you, good father," Roger went on, "to be among men who, if reports speak truly, are somewhat lawless, and hold even the church in but slight respect. Surely, among them there can be but little scope for your abilities?"
"'Tis true, brother; but they are, you know, kinsmen of mine. They have many foes across the border, and some on this side, and are forced to hold their own as they may. It was but two days ago that they were obliged to punish a family that have long been at feud with them, and who might well have fallen upon their holds, if they marched into England with Douglas. However, they have brought off two hostages for the good behaviour of these people."
"Yes, I heard a chance word, in the village, that a party had just returned from a foray, and had brought back a number of prisoners."
"Not a number, brother, but two girls."
"I have seen no women in the castle," Roger said.
"No. William Baird lost his wife years ago, and cares not to have women in the hold. There is not a married man among the garrison. If a man takes him a wife, he must go and settle on the lands.
"The women are in a safe place of keeping. They are overhead. There are wild young fellows among the Bairds, and the girls are good looking; therefore he thought it best to place them in my charge, and that is why you see two sentries marching on the battlements, one on each side of this turret. He himself keeps the key of their chamber, handing it over to me every morning, and receiving it again at night--a precaution wholly unnecessary, methinks."
"Surely, surely," Roger said. "I wonder that you are not offended."
"I told him that it was strange he could not trust me, a priest, with the charge of them; but he laughed and said, 'As a priest you are well enough, Father Kenelm, but remember also that you are a Baird. Though a priest, I would trust you to ride with me on a foray across the border; but as a Baird, I would not entrust you with the custody of women. You may take it as a compliment that I have trusted you as far as I do.'"
Roger's answer to Oswald had been eminently satisfactory to the latter. Still more pleased was he when, later on in the day, Roger repeated, as he passed him, "They are lodged in the turret, over my chamber."
Oswald was scarcely surprised, for he had noticed that two sentries were on the wall on that side, although it was the one farthest removed from the direction in which any foes were likely to appear. He had, moreover, just before dinner, observed one of the kitchen men go up, with two dishes in his hand, by the steps leading to the top of the wall, on that side. There was no hindrance to the men going freely in and out of the hold, and as no duty had been assigned to him that evening, he strolled out of the gate when it became dusk, soon after six o'clock, for it was now the beginning of April, 1401, and walked down through the village; and then, taking off his armour and steel cap, and laying them down under a bush by the roadside, set off at the top of his speed in the direction of Parton. He did the ten miles in under an hour, and nearly ran against a man who was standing in the middle of the road, a short distance from the little town.
"Is that you, Fergus?"
"No, I am John, master. Fergus will take the watch tomorrow evening."
"Good. Keep the horses saddled at this time, every evening; and hold them in readiness all night. Things are going on well, and I may be here any night. Which is the house?"
"That is it, master, where you see the light, a quarter of a mile farther up the hill."
"Where are you sleeping?"
"In the stables, with the horses. It is some ten yards off the right of the house."
"Then you must keep watch through the night, by turns, and get your sleep in the daytime. I hope we shall get them away without waiting for a force to come. The hold is a very strong one, and a strict watch is kept at night; and, before we could carry it, we should have all the Bairds on the countryside down upon us.
"Can you get me a rope? I want a long and a strong one."
"There are some ropes in the stable, master, but they are in use, and would be missed."
"Then run, at the top of your speed, down to the town; and buy a rope strong enough to hold the weight of half a dozen men. I shall want a hundred feet of it. Here is money."
The man shot away into the darkness and, in a little over a quarter of an hour, was back again with the rope. Oswald took off his doublet.
"Wind it round and round me," he said. "Begin under the arms. Wind it neatly, and closely, so that it will make no more show than necessary."
This was soon done, and then Oswald started on his way; and an hour later entered the tavern, and took his seat with three or four of the men from the hold, and called for wine for the party. He sat there for some time, and then one said:
"It is half-past eight; we had best be going. At seven o'clock the gates are shut; but they are opened, for those who belong to the hold, till nine, after which none are admitted till morning, and any who come in then are reported to Baird, and they are lucky if they get off with half a dozen extra goes of sentry duty. Baird is a good master in many things, but he is a bad man to deal with, when he is angry; and if anyone was to be out a second time, and he did it too soon after the first offence, he would have his skin nearly flayed off his back, with a stirrup leather. There is no fooling with the Bairds."
Oswald arranged with Roger that, if the latter remained in the castle, he should always come down half an hour before the garrison were moving, as they might then exchange a word or two unseen; and accordingly, he took his place at an angle of a building, where he could keep his eye on the steps leading up to the battlements, on the north side.
Presently he saw Roger descending. He waved his hand, and caught his follower's eye; and the latter, on reaching the courtyard, at once joined him.
"I have a rope, Roger," Oswald began, "that will reach from the turret to the foot of the craig. I took it off during the night, and have just hidden it away behind a pile of rubbish, in the stable. Are the girls locked up?"
"Yes."
"Is there any getting the key?"
"No, William Baird himself keeps it."
"Then we must have something to force the door open, or to saw round the lock."
"The door is studded with iron."
"Are the windows barred?"
"No; but they are mere loopholes, and there is no getting through them."
"I suppose there are steps from their room on to the platform above?"
"No doubt. In fact, there are sure to be."
"I suppose that you will have no difficulty in silencing the priest?"
Roger smiled.
"No; I think I can answer for him."
"Could you speak to the girls through the keyhole, Roger?"
"There would be no difficulty about that, master. I have but to choose a time when the priest is out."
"Then tell them that we are here, Roger, and they are to be ready to escape, whenever we give the signal. Ask them if the trapdoor leading on to the platform is fastened, and whether they can unfasten it. If not, we must break it in, from above. We can get on to the top of the turret, easily enough, by throwing the rope up with a hook attached.
"Of course, the two sentries must be first silenced. I would wait till I, myself, should be on sentry there; but that might not occur for a week, and you cannot prolong your stay here more than another day; therefore, we will try it tonight. I have given the men with the horses notice.
"Do you get the priest bound and gagged, by ten o'clock; everything will be quiet by that time. I will come noiselessly up the steps. At that hour, do you be at the door, and on the lookout for me. The sentries will have to be silenced--that is the most difficult part of the business."
"We can manage that," Roger said, confidently. "One blow with my quarterstaff, on the back of the head under the steel cap, will do that noiselessly enough."
"That would not do, Roger. The man would go down with such a crash, that the fall of his armour on the flags would be heard all over the castle. He must be gripped by the throat, so that he cannot holloa; and then bound tightly, and gagged before he has time to get breath."
"I suppose that would be the best way," Roger said regretfully; "but I should like to have struck two good blows; one for the sake of Dame Armstrong, and one for Allan. However, your plan is the best. The only difficulty will be the trapdoor."
"Well, we must look about today, and get a couple of bits of iron that we can use as a prise. Still, I hope that it will not be needed. I saw a bit of iron, in the stables, that I think I can bend into a hook for the rope; and if I can't, I have no doubt that you can.
"That is all. You had better move away now. People will be stirring, directly."
That night, at ten o'clock, when all in the hold had been asleep half an hour, Oswald rose quietly from the rushes, on which he and a dozen of his comrades were sleeping, and made his way noiselessly out of the room; went into the stables and fetched the piece of iron, which he had, during the day, placed so that he could feel it in the dark; took the coil of rope in his hands, and ascended the steps. The top was but some ten feet from the turret. He stood quiet, until he heard the sentry moving away from him, then he mounted the last steps, and in a moment reached the foot of the turret stairs. Roger was standing there.
"All right, master!" he whispered. "I took the priest by surprise, and he was gagged before he knew what was happening. I tore the blanket up into strips, and tied him down onto his pallet with them. He is safe enough.
"Now for the sentries. I will take the one to the right, first. I will go out and stand in the angle. It is a dark night, and there is no chance of his seeing me. When you hear his walk cease, you will know that I have got him. I have managed to bring up a rope, that I have cut into handy lengths. Here are two of them.
"There, he has just turned, so I will go at once."
"How about the trapdoor?"
"It is all right, master. It is bolted on the inside. They have tried the bolts, and find they can move them;" and with these words, he at once stepped noiselessly out.
Oswald stood listening. Presently he heard the returning steps of the sentry. They came close up to the turret, and then suddenly ceased.
He at once hurried round. The sentry hung limp in Roger's grasp. Oswald bound his hands tightly, and twisted the rope three or four times round his body, and securely knotted it. Then he tied the ankles tightly together.
"I will lay him down," Roger whispered, when he had done so.
Oswald bent the man's legs and, trussing him up, fastened the rope from the ankles to that which bound the wrists. Roger now relaxed his grip of the man's throat, thrust a piece of wood between his teeth, and fastened it, by a string going round the back of the head. He then took off his steel cap, and laid it some distance away.
"That will do for him, master. I reckon that he will be an hour or two, before he will get breath enough to holloa, even without that gag."
The other man was captured as silently as the former had been. When he was bound, Roger said:
"Now for the hook, master."
"Here is the iron. It was too strong for me to bend."
Roger took it and, exerting his great strength, bent it across his knee. Then he took the coil of rope, and tied a knot at the end, and with some smaller cord lashed it securely along the whole length of the hook.
"Now, Master, do you get on to my shoulders, and I think you will be able to hook it to the battlements. It is not above twelve feet. If you find that you cannot, step on my head."
"I am sure I can reach it without that, Roger."
And indeed, he found that he could do so easily; and having fixed it firmly, he got hold of the rope, and hoisted himself to the top of the turret. In a minute, Roger was beside him.
Feeling about, they soon discovered the trapdoor, on which Roger knocked three times. Then they heard a grating sound below and, shortly, one end of the heavy trapdoor was slightly raised. The two men got their fingers under it, and pulled it up, and Janet and Jessie ran out, both crying with joy and excitement.
"Hush!" Oswald whispered. "Do not utter a sound. There are sentries on other parts of the walls, and the slightest noise might be heard.
"Now, we will knot this rope."
He and Roger set to work, and before long knots were tied, a foot apart, along the whole length of the rope.
"I will take you down first, Jessie, for you are the lightest," Oswald said.
"Now, Roger, tie us together."
One of the pieces of rope Roger had brought was passed round and round them, tying them firmly, face to face.
"Now, Jessie, you had best take hold of the rope, too, and take as much of your weight off me as you can. It is a long way down; and, though I think that I could carry your weight that distance, it is best that you should help me as much as you are able."
The rope was shifted to the outside of the turret. Roger, after fixing it firmly, helped them over the battlements, holding Oswald by the collar, until he had a firm grasp of the rope in his hands, and obtained a hold with his feet.
"That is right, Jessie," he whispered, as the girl also took a firm hold of the rope. "You are no weight, like that. Now, let the rope pass gradually through your hands and, when I tell you, hold tight by one of the knots."
After lowering himself forty feet, Oswald found that he was standing on a ledge of rock, three inches wide, at the foot of the wall.
"Now, dear, it will be more difficult," he said. "You must use one of your hands, to push yourself off from any rugged points. There are not many of them. I had a look at the rock today, and its face is almost smooth. I will do the best I can to keep you from it."
In another three minutes, they stood at the foot of the craig. Oswald shook the rope violently, to let those above know that they were down. Then he untied the cord that bound him to his cousin, who at once sat down, sobbing hysterically. Oswald put his hand upon her shoulder.
"Steady, Jessie, steady. You have been brave and quiet, coming down. The danger is over now, but we have a long walk and a longer ride before us, and you will need all your strength."
In a very short time, Roger and Janet joined them. As soon as she was untied, Janet threw her arms round Oswald's neck, and spoke for the first time.
"Oh, Oswald, from what have you saved us! How brave and good of you to risk so much!"
"Tut, tut, Janet, as if we should leave you here, in the hands of the Bairds, without making an effort to free you! Now, come along, dear. Be very careful how you walk, till we get down to the bottom. It is pretty steep and, if you were to set a stone rolling, we might have them after us, in no time. As it is, we shall only have an hour and a half start, for the sentries will be relieved at midnight. However, by that time we shall be on horseback, and of course they won't know which road we have taken."
As soon as they came to level ground, they set off at a run. They were but a mile from the village when they heard, on the still night air, distant shouts, followed half a minute later by the winding of a horn; then, almost immediately, a glimmering light appeared on the highest turret of the hold, and this rapidly broadened out into a sheet of flame.
"They have discovered our escape, by some misfortune or other," Oswald exclaimed, "and they will be after us, before many minutes have passed. You must run in earnest now, girls."
"Do you run on, Oswald," Janet said, "you and Roger. We will turn and walk back. They will do us no harm."
Oswald thought of the murder of the girls' mother, and knew that, in their fury at having been tricked, the Bairds were capable of anything.
"It is not to be thought of," he said. "Such a watch would henceforth be kept that there would be no possibility, whatever, of effecting your rescue. We must take our chance together.
"What think you had best be done, Roger?"
"In sooth, I know not. I am ready to do whatever you think best."
"We cannot hope to reach Parton, before they overtake us," Oswald said. "Besides, the Bairds are sure to have many friends there, and the lighted beacon will warn all the countryside that something unusual has happened. No, we cannot think of going there."
"But you said that there were horses," Janet said.
"They are but a short distance on this side of the town. We could not hope to get there before the Bairds; and, even if we did, it would be a quarter of an hour before we could mount and be off."
"Could we not hide and get the horses after they have passed, master?" Roger suggested.
"It would be useless, Roger. The road leads up and down this valley, and there would be no possibility of riding the horses across the hills, at night; so that we should have either to ride down through Parton, or up past the Bairds' hold. No, the horses must be given up, for the present. The only thing that I can see is to cross the Esk, and to take refuge in the hills. I know not if there are any fords, or where they are; but, were we to turn to the right, we should be getting farther and farther away. The Esk is no great width, and we can carry them across it, easily enough."
"The water will be dreadfully cold," Jessie said, with a shiver, for it was now the beginning of April.
"Hush, Jessie!" her sister said. "What matters a little cold, when our lives are at stake?"
"No, that is our only hope," Oswald said. "Quick, girls, there is no time to lose."
The river was but some fifty yards from the road, and they ran down to it.
"Now, girls," Oswald said when they reached it, "you must take off your cloaks, and all upper garments. Were you to get these wet you would, before morning, die of cold. Don't lose a moment. Undress under the shelter of these bushes.
"Now, Roger, let us move a few yards away, and then take off our doublets and shirts, and swim across, holding them above the water. By the time that we are back, the girls will be ready."
"I will carry them across, master. It is of no use two of us going, with so light a burden. I shall make nothing of it."
Oswald made no opposition and, a minute later, the shirts and doublets were made into a bundle, and bound on Roger's head. He waded into the water until it reached his chin, and then swam out. The distance to be traversed was but some fifteen yards, and a few strokes of his brawny arms brought him to the opposite bank. Having laid down his bundle there, he swam quickly back again.
"Are you ready, girls?" Oswald asked.
"Yes," Janet replied, and two white figures came out from the bushes, each carrying a bundle.
"Do you go into the bushes again, for a minute. We cannot take you and the bundles over together; and it is better that you should stand here, in dry things, than wait in wet ones, over there."
A minute sufficed to tie the bundles on the heads of the two men. They soon swam across to the other side, left them there, and returned.
"The water is bitterly cold for the girls," Oswald said, as they swam across together.
"It is, master, but they will only be in it for a minute, and they will soon be warm again."
"Now, girls."
"We have just heard the sound of horses in the distance, Oswald," Janet said.
He listened.
"Sound travels far, this still night," he said; "they can only just have started. We shall be across long before they come along.
"Now, Jessie, we will take you first. The stream runs strongly, and it were best that you went over separately. All you have to do is to put a hand on a shoulder of each of us. Come along."
"I will carry her till we get into deep water," Roger said, catching the girl up in his arms, and running into the stream.
Jessie gasped, as the water reached her.
"It will be over in a minute," Oswald said encouragingly. "Now, we are going to swim. Put your hands upon our shoulders. That is right."
Striking out strongly, they easily carried her until she was in her depth.
"Now, dear, get ashore, and stand behind those bushes, and take off your wet things and put on your dry ones. We will have Janet across, in no time."
The girl was carried across as easily as her sister had been.
"Here is your bundle, dear. Jessie has taken hers. Dress as quickly as you can. Stoop down, as soon as you reach the bushes. They will be here, directly."
Janet ran to the thicket, and Oswald and Roger threw themselves down behind a great stone. Two minutes later, they could hear the thunder of hoofs go along the road opposite, but could not make out the figures.
"How many are there of them, do you think, Roger?"
"A dozen or so, master."
"Yes, I should think you are right. However, it makes no difference; were there ten times as many, they would not catch us, tonight." _