“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.