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.