"It may be as you say, Sir Thomas. But the danger I'm thinking of has more to do with time than floods. Wading's slow work; and there's still the possibility of Walwyn and his green-coats coming on after us.

Suppose they should, and find us floundering through the water?"

"No need supposing that, Prince. There isn't the slightest likelihood of it. I'd stake high that at this minute they're at the bottom of Cat's Hill, or, it may be, by Goodrich Ferry, seeking to cross over the Wye as we the Severn. And, like as not, Lingen will give them a turn if he gets word of their being about there. Sir Harry has now a strong force in the castle; and owes d.i.c.k Walwyn a _revanche_--for that affair on the Hereford Road the morning after Kyrle led them into Monmouth."

"For all, I wish we had gone Monmouth way," rejoined Rupert, as his eyes rested doubtingly on the white sheet of water wide spread over the plain below. "I still fear their pursuing us."

"Even if they should, your Highness, we need have no apprehension. The pursuit can't be immediate; and, please G.o.d, in another hour or so, we'll be over the Severn, as likely they on the other side of the Wye, with both rivers between them and us."

"Would that I were sure of that, Colonel," returned the Prince, still desponding, "which I'm not. However, we've no alternative now but to cross here--if we can. You seem to have a doubt of our being able to make the Pa.s.sage of Westbury?"

"I'm only a little uncertain about it, your Highness."

"But sure about that of Framilode?"

"Quite; though the flood be of the biggest and deepest."

"_Sehr wohl_! with that a.s.surance I'm satisfied. But we must have things secure behind, ere we commence making our wade. And we may as well take the step now. So, Colonel, ride back along the line, detach a rear-guard, and place it under some officer who can be trusted. Lose not a moment! stay at halt here, till you return to me."

The commanding officer of the escort, as much alive to the prudence of this precaution as he who gave the orders for it, hastened to carrying them out. Done by detailing off a few of the rearmost files, with directions to remain as they were, while the main body moved forward.

Then instructions given to the officer who was to take charge of them; all occupying less than ten minutes' time.

After which, Lunsford again placed himself by the side of the Prince, and the march was immediately resumed, down the valley of Flaxley, on for the flooded plain.

CHAPTER SIXTY SIX.

ON THE TRAIL.

Words cannot depict the feelings of Sir Richard Walwyn and Eustace Trevor as they reined up by the burning house. With both it was anguish of the keenest; for they knew who were the incendiaries, and that incendiarism was not the worst of it. They who ruthlessly kindled the flames had, with like ruth, carried off their betrothed ones. And for what purpose? A question neither colonel nor captain could help asking himself, though its conjectural answer was agony. For now more vividly than ever did Sir Richard recall what had been told him of Lunsford's designs upon Sabrina; while Trevor had also heard of Prince Rupert's partiality for Vaga.

As they sate in their saddles contemplating the ruin, they felt as might an American frontiersman, returned home to find his cabin ablaze, fired by Indian torch, his wife or daughters borne off in the brutal embrace of the savage.

No better fate seemed to have befallen the daughters of Ambrose Powell.

White savages, very tigers, had seized upon and dragged them to their lair; it were no worse if red ones had been the captors. Rather would the bereaved lovers have had it so; sooner known their sweethearts buried under that blazing pile than in the arms of the profligate Rupert and Lunsford the "b.l.o.o.d.y."

Only for an instant did they give way to their anguish, or the anger which accompanied it--rage almost to madness. Both were controlled by the necessity of action, and the first wild burst over, action was taken--pursuit of the ravishers.

Some time, however, before it could be fairly entered upon; inquiry made as to the direction in which they had gone. There were hundreds on the ground who could be interrogated. Half the people of Ruardean were there. Roused from their beds by the cry "Fire?" they had rushed out, and on to the scene of conflagration. But arrived too late to witness the departure of those who had set the torch, and could not tell what way they had gone. Neither could the house-servants, now released from their lock-up; for to hinder them doing so was the chief reason for their having been confined.

As it was known to all that the Royalists had come up from Monmouth, conjecture pointed to their having returned thither. But conjecture was not enough to initiate such a pursuit; and Colonel Walwyn was too practised a campaigner to rely upon it. Certainty of the route taken by the enemy was essential, else he might go on a wild-goose chase.

As that could not be obtained at the burning house, not a moment longer, stayed he by it. Scarce ten minutes in all from the time of their arrival till he gave the command "About?" and about went they, back down the long avenue, and through the park gate.

Soon as outside, he shouted "Halt!" bringing all again to a stand; he himself, however, with Captain Trevor and Sergeant Wilde, advancing along the road in the direction of Cat's Hill. Only a hundred yards or so, when they reined up. Then, by command, the big sergeant threw himself out of his saddle; and, bending down, commenced examination of the ground.

Had Wilde been born in the American backwoods he would have been a noted hunter and tracker of the Leatherstocking type. As it was, his experience as a deer-stealer in the Forest of Dean had been sufficient to make the taking up a horse's trail an easy matter, and easier that of a whole troop. He could do it even in darkness; for it was dark then-- the moon under a cloud.

And he did it; in an instant. Scarce was he astoop ere rising erect again, and turning face to Sir Richard, as if all had been ascertained.

"Well, Rob," interrogated the latter, rather surprised at such quick work, "you see their tracks?"

"I do, Colonel."

"Going Cat's Hill way?"

"No, Colonel. The contrary--comin' from. None o' 'em fresh neyther.

Must a been made some time i' the afternoon."

"Have you a.s.sured yourself of that?"

"I have. But I'll gie 'em another look, if ye weesh it, Colonel."

"Do."

The colossus again bent down and repeated his examination of the tracks, this time making a traverse or two, and going farther along the road.

In a few seconds to return with a confirmation of his former report. A troop of cavalry had pa.s.sed over it, but only in one direction--upward, and some hours before sunset.

"Sure am I o' that, as if I'd been here an' seed 'em," was the tracker's concluding words.

"Enough?" said Sir Richard. "Into your saddle, and follow me."

At which he gave his horse the spur, and trotted back towards the park gate. Not to rejoin his men, still at halt, however. Instead, he continued on along the road for Drybrook; the other two keeping with him.

At a like distance from the halted line he again drew up, and directed the sergeant to make a similar reconnaissance.

Here the reading of the sign occupied the tracker some little longer time; as there was a confusion of hoof marks--some turned one way, some the other. Those that had the toe towards Hollymead gate he knew to have been made by their own horses; but underneath, and nearly obliterated, were hundreds of others almost as fresh.

"That's the trail of the scoundrels," said Sir Richard, soon as the sergeant reported the result of his investigation. "They've gone over to the Gloucester side; by Drybrook and Mitcheldean. How strange our not meeting them!"

"It is--very strange," rejoined Trevor; "but could they have pa.s.sed through Mitcheldean without our meeting them?"

"Oh yes they could, Captain," put in Wilde, once more mounted; "theer be several by-ways through the Forest as leads there, 'ithout touchin' o'

Drybrook. An' I think I know the one them have took. Whens us get to where it branch off their tracks'll tell."

"Right; they will," said Sir Richard, laying aside conjecture, and calling to the officer in charge of the men to bring them on at quick pace.

At quick pace they came; the Colonel, Captain Trevor, and the big sergeant starting off before they were up, and keeping several horse lengths ahead.

The route they were taking was the same they had come by--back for Drybrook. But coming and going their att.i.tude was different. Then erect, with eyes turned upward regarding the glare over Hollymead; now bent down, cheeks to the saddle bow, and glances all given to the ground. For, as Wilde had said, there were several by-ways, any one of which the pursued party might have taken; and to go astray on the pursuit, even to the loss of ten minutes' time, might be fatal to their purpose--the feather's weight turning the scale.

But no danger now; the moon was giving a good light, and the road for long stretches was open, the trees on each side wide apart. So they had no difficulty in seeing what before they had not thought of looking for; the hoof marks of many horses, that had gone towards Drybrook. The tracks of their own, going the other way, had almost obliterated them; still enough of the under ones were visible to show that two bodies of horse had pa.s.sed in opposite directions, with but a short interval of time between.

As this could be noted without the necessity of stopping or slowing pace, Colonel Walwyn carried his men on in a brisk canter, designing halt only at the branch road of which the sergeant had spoken.

But long before reaching it they got information which made stoppage there unnecessary, as also further call on the ex-deer-stealer's skill as a tracker--for the time. Given by a man mounted on a hotel hack, who, coming on at a clattering gallop, met them in the teeth. His cry "For the Parliament?" without being challenged, proclaimed him a friend.

And he was; the innkeeper of Mitcheldean, recognised on the instant by Sir Richard and Rob Wilde.