Wendot’s lips framed themselves to the word “water” as he heard it spoken.  If he had but a draught of water, perhaps he could speak again and understand what was passing.  As it was, he only heard the sound of a confusion of voices, the clear tones of little Gertrude being the most continuous and the most distinct.  She seemed to be pouring some tale into the ears of her listeners, and Wendot was certain, from the quick, sudden movements of his father, who was supporting him as he lay, that the story heard was exciting in him feelings of indignation and amazement, although the boy’s brain was too much confused to tell him the reason for this displeasure.

But the sense of rest and safety inspired by his father’s presence was very comforting; and when the wounded lad had been drawn to the summit of the cliff by the strong, willing arms of the retainers, and his hurts rudely dressed by kindly hands, and his parched throat refreshed by deep draughts of cold water, he began to shake off the sense of unreality which had made him feel like one in a dream, and to marvel at the unexpected appearance on the lonely fell of his father and Lord Montacute.

A sure-footed mountain pony was bearing him gently down the steep slope, and his questioning look called Griffeth to his side.

“What means all this, Griffeth?” he whispered.  “Whence came they? and what do they know?  And Llewelyn and Howel, where are they?  Can it be that they —­”

He could not frame his lips to speak the words, but Griffeth understood him without, and his cheek flushed.

“I fear me it is indeed as we thought.  She went with them, and they left her alone on the ledge, where once the eagle’s eyry used to be.  Maelgon’s men came to carry her off thence.  Had it not been for thee, Wendot, she would have been in their hands ere now.  I would I had stood beside thee, brother.  I would I had shared thy perils and thy hurts.”

“Thou didst better than that,” answered Wendot, faintly smiling, “for thou broughtest aid in the very nick of time.  And how came it that our father and our guest were with thee?  Methought it must surely be a dream when I saw them.”

“Ay, we met them journeying towards the castle when we had but made a short mile from it.  They would have reached last night but for an accident to one of the beasts, which detained them on the road; but they had started ere the sun rose, and were hard by when we encountered them.  Hearing our errand, some went forward as before, but others joined our party.  It was well we were thus reinforced, for Maelgon’s men fight like veritable wolves.”

“What knoweth our father of the matter?  Spakest thou to him of Llewelyn and Howel?”

“I had perforce to do so, they questioned me so closely.  I know not what they thought.  Our guest’s face is not one that may be read like a book, and our father only set his lips in his stern fashion, as though he would never open them again.  I trow he is sore displeased that sons of his should thus act; but perchance it may not be so bad as we think.”