The yellow spark of a glowworm shining by a bush made him set his teeth; trifling and well known as it was, the light suddenly seen thrilled him with the terror of the unexpected.  Strange rushings sounded among the fern, as if the wings of a demon brushed it as he travelled.  Felix knew that they were caused by rabbits hastening off, or a boar bounding away, yet they increased the feverish excitement with which he was burdened.  Though dark beneath the firs, it was not like the darkness of the beeches; these trees did not form a perfect canopy overhead everywhere.  In places he could see where a streak of moonlight came aslant through an opening and reached the ground.  One such streak fell upon the track ahead; the trees there had decayed and fallen, and a broad band of light lit up the way.

As he approached it and had almost entered, suddenly something shot towards him in the air; a flash, as it were, as if some object had crossed the streak, and was rendered visible for the tenth of a second, like a mote in the sunbeams.  At the same instant of time, the horse, which he had pressed to go faster, put his foot into a rut or hole, and stumbled, and Felix was flung so far forward that he only saved himself from being thrown by clinging to his neck.  A slight whizzing sound passed over his head, followed immediately by a sharp tap against a tree in his rear.

The thing happened in the twinkling of an eye, but he recognised the sound; it was the whiz of a crossbow bolt, which had missed his head, and buried its point in a fir.  The stumble saved him; the bolt would have struck his head or chest had not the horse gone nearly on his knee.  The robber had so planned his ambush that his prey should be well seen, distinct in the moonlight, so that his aim might be sure.  Recovering himself, the horse, without needing the spur, as if he recognised the danger to his rider, started forward at full speed, and raced, regardless of ruts, along the track.  Felix, who had hardly got into his seat again, could for awhile but barely restrain it, so wildly he fled.  He must have been carried within a few yards of the bandit, but saw nothing, neither did a second bolt follow him; the crossbow takes time to bend, and if the robber had companions they were differently armed.

He was a furlong or more from the spot before he quite realized the danger he had escaped.  His bow was unstrung in his hand, his arrows were all in the quiver; thus, had the bolt struck him, even if the wound had not been mortal (as it most likely would have been) he could have made no resistance.  How foolish to disregard the warnings of the grooms at the castle!  It was now too late; all he could do was to ride.  Dreading every moment to be thrown, he pushed on as fast as the horse would go.  There was no pursuit, and after a mile or so, as he left the firs and entered the ash woods, he slackened somewhat.  It was, indeed, necessary, for here the hoofs of preceding horsemen had poached the turf (always damp under ash) into mud.  It was less dark, for the boughs of the ashes did not meet above.