But here Ralph ventured a remonstrance; the day was far spent, they had but an hour or two of daylight, and there were heavy clouds in the northeast, which seemed to indicate a snowstorm; he thought “they had better return towards home as fast as they could, and finish their work on the morrow.”

“If thou fearest for thyself, I give thee leave to return, old man; for me, I will stay here till my duty is accomplished, and so will all who value their fealty.”

“It is the first time one of thy house has ever thus spoken to me, my young lord.”

“Let it be the last time then,” said the proud youth; “it depends but upon thyself; and now lead the way—­our path is westward.  Examine the ground closely; we know we are in the neighbourhood of the foe.”

They obeyed, and an hour passed away without any further alarm, when the dogs recommenced their warning growls.

The men appeared terrified:  they knew what had followed those warnings before, and their light jerkins of untanned leather were not proof against arrows.  They directed their keenest glances into the forest.

The tall trees rose like the pillars of a cathedral, supporting the fretwork of branches on every side; here and there some monarch of the woods had fallen, and was now covered over with ivy; but no other shelter seemed at hand which might conceal a foe, save some little undergrowth here and there.

But the most serious thing was the hour; the day was fast declining; the clouds which floated above them were fast assuming those roseate tints which they receive from the setting sun; while behind them vast masses, which looked black by contrast with the glowing west, were slowly obscuring the heavens, and the winds were heard moaning more and more loudly as each minute passed.

There was hardly a member of the band who did not share Ralph’s uneasiness, and who would not have given much to find himself safe in the castle; but their wilful young leader was still unmoved—­it must be owned that his courage bordered on foolhardiness.

At length the darkness came, as with a rush, upon them; the black clouds were overhead; some feathery flakes of snow blew about them—­precursors of the coming storm.  Their work was still unaccomplished, but Etienne at length heeded the murmurs of the party, and calling them together, for they had dispersed to look after the signs they hoped to find, said: 

“I fear we must leave our work unfinished—­we can see no longer, and may as well return home.”

“My lord, would it please thee to number the party? we should be twenty.”

“Count them thyself,” he said.

“Fifteen.”

“We left one behind us where we rested, but where are the rest?” said Ralph.

“It is useless to search for them now—­it is so dark, the hour is late—­we must return tomorrow.”

“Perhaps,” said the old forester, sorrowfully, “but we are in a forest infested by these English fiends, perhaps by real demons.  There are many who affirm as much, and there is not a man here who might not profitably give up a year of his life to be just five miles nearer home.”