Whilst he was speaking, Cuthbert was wrapping the inanimate figure in the cloaks, and placing it gently in the hammock, as we should call it, that, suspended by strong cords from above, had assisted him in his descent to the boat.  Then at a given signal this hammock, with its human load, was slowly and steadily drawn upwards, with a cautious, silent skill that betokened use and experience; and as the eager watchers pushed out their boat a little further into the river, they saw the bulky object vanish at last within the dimly-lighted window of the tall, narrow house.  A light was flashed for a moment from the window, and then all was wrapped in darkness.

“All is well,” exclaimed Cuthbert, with an accent of relief; “and I trow that not a living soul but our two selves knows whither the priest has fled.  He is safe from that savage, howling mob.  Methinks I hear their cries still!  It was just so they yelled and hooted round me when Father Urban came so timely to my rescue.”

Mistress Susan chid Cuthbert somewhat roundly for being late for supper that night.  But when he said he had been belated by the fog on the river with Jacob, the excuse was allowed to stand.  Cherry was eager to know the progress making with her namesake, and no inconvenient questions were asked of Cuthbert when once her chattering tongue had been unloosed.

Cuthbert’s dreams were a little troubled and uneasy that night; but he woke in good spirits, and was anxious to know the state of Father Urban.  He made an early excuse for visiting the Coles’ abode, and found the elder man busy over his type.

He looked up with a smile as Cuthbert appeared, but laid his fingers on his lips.

“Be cautious; he has but just sunk to sleep after a night of wakeful pain.  He is anxious to see thee.  He asked for thee a score of times in the night; but he must not be wakened now.  Thou hast done a good deed, boy.  Had Father Urban fallen a victim to yon hooting mob last eve, a deadly blow would have been dealt to the faith of this land.”

“And is his sickness very sore? has he any grievous hurt?”

“He was sore knocked about and bruised ere he first wrenched himself from the officer of the law who sprang upon him with an order of arrest.  Two of his ribs be broke; and that long and fearful race for his life did cause him sore pain and greater injury, so that a fever has been set up, and he has had to lose much blood to allay it.  But he is quiet and at rest just now.  Thou hadst better come again at sundown; he will doubtless be awake then.  He has somewhat to say to thee, I know.  I believe that he has some mission to entrust to thee.  Thou hast a kindly heart and a strong arm.  I trow thou wilt not fail him now.”

Anthony Cole looked fixedly into the boy’s face, and Cuthbert returned the glance unflinchingly.  He was possessed by the generous feeling all young and ardent natures know of keen desire to assist further any person already indebted to them for past grace.  The fact that already he had run some risk on account of Father Urban only made Cuthbert the more anxious to help him in whatever manner might best conduce to his well being and comfort.  He looked full at his interlocutor, and said: