by Tom Bevan
Chapter IX.
THE HUNT.
By the time he had reached home, Windybank was persuaded that treasonwould bring no grist to his mill. Weak-kneed and inclined to evil, hewas yet an Englishman, and in his heart he felt that all the kings thatever ruled in Spain were too feeble a power to hold valiant littleEngland in a conqueror's grip. The Jesuit's plot was feasible, and, asexpounded by Father Jerome, promised a measure of success. The masterof Dean Tower was prepared to acknowledge that the forest might befired. What then? Would Philip beat England on the sea? The balanceof numbers would be on his side; but what of the deeds of Drake and hisbrother-captains? They were men who laughed when the odds were againstthem. "No," said Andrew decisively, "the Spaniard is not yet born whocan trounce that bullet-headed man of Devon. Philip's men can hardlyland in England. If they do--!" The young man shrugged his shouldersexpressively; there were bonny fighters for the shore as well as forthe sea!
Such was the power of a pair of blue eyes, when the black ones were notat hand to counteract their witchery, that Windybank determinedstraightway to play the honest man that he had determined to become.He whistled for his dogs, called to his groom, got him upon a sturdypony, and hurried away to the hunt. He was late, but he knew that thequarry was to be roused in the Abbot's Wood, a close belt of forestlying betwixt Littledean and Blakeney, so he made for the old,grass-grown Roman road that ran straight through the heart of thewoodland, and, ere he had ridden two miles, he could discern horn and"halloo!" away to the right towards the Speech.[1] His hounds heardthe welcome sounds, gave mouth in answer, and dashed off through thegreen, waving sea of bracken. And master and groom, their foresterblood running like a stimulating wine through them, put spurs to theirsteeds and raced off on the heels of the dogs.
After very little riding, the rapidly swelling volume of sound told thetwo hunters that the chase was coming straight in their own direction,and hardly had they come to this conclusion when a fresh and fiercerbaying from their dogs and a ripping and crashing in the undergrowthbrought them face to face with the quarry--a magnificent ten-pointstag. Confronted unexpectedly by these fresh foes, the noble creaturecame to a terrified halt, and, flanks heaving, nostrils quivering,stared at them with wide-open eyes. But a yelp from the nearest houndand a view "halloo!" from Windybank sent it off again like a bolt froma crossbow.
"Head him back to the main chase!" yelled Master Andrew, and he rodeoff at a dangerous pace through the trees to carry out his owninstructions. Dogs and man obeyed his voice with a will, and theunfortunate stag went bounding from one danger into the jaws of agreater. Terrified by the shouts and bayings behind him, and sorelyhampered by the trees and undergrowth, he burst wildly into a glade,hoping to make a quicker dash for safety, but found himself, instead,confronted by a crowd of hunters on horse and afoot. Effectuallycornered, he turned to bay, and the first hound that approached wastossed a good dozen yards, landing with a thud and a howl right underthe heels of Dorothy's pony. Snapping viciously out at the nearestobstacle, the brute bit the pony just above the fetlock, causing it torear, spring forward, and throw its rider into the midst of the dogsand within reach of the stag's horns. A cry of alarm went up, andWindybank, who was easily the nearest man, had the opportunity of hislife. He hesitated, and his rival, who had quitted the boar hunt whenhe found Dorothy riding after other game, sprang to the rescue in aninstant. With his bare hands he threw the dogs aside and snatched upthe unconscious girl just as the stag's antlers made the first savagerip at her riding-dress. The whole deed was done in the twinkling ofan eye, and done single-handed. Morgan's quickness and cool daring hadproved easily equal to the crisis, and loud cries of "Well done,Johnnie!" greeted the popular hero. For the nonce the quarry was leftto the dogs, and Windybank, glancing round, saw that he was the onlyman still in the saddle; instinctively every other rider had sprung tothe ground. No one appeared to notice him; so, conscious that hischance of regaining any share of popular esteem was gone, he swung hishorse round and disappeared amidst the trees. His dogs were yelpingwith the rest of the pack, and not even his groom followed him. Afeeling of hopeless loneliness crept over the young man's heart, andhis head hung down, weighted with the bitterest thoughts of his life.His conscience was busy with accusing whispers--"Traitor! Coward!Fool!" The unspoken words burnt into his brain, and fired his darkface with the hues of a lurid sunset. He halted; no man could see him,and he listened to the clamour in the glade. He heard an exultant bayfrom one of his own hounds. The brute dared more than his master, andwas taking a bold share in the events of the moment; and the vindictivemaster vowed to have the brave dog's life for outdoing him.
The spirit of mad hate was driving out the feeling of shame. He vowedwith an awful oath that Morgan should share the hound's fate. All menwere his enemies; why, then, should he spare them?
A hand of ice was laid on his hand, and he almost screamed with thesudden shock and surprise; he had heard no footstep. He raised hishead, to find the stern, set face of Basil confronting him.
"What art thou doing here?" he cried hoarsely.
"Looking after thee."
"Begone, then; I'll not be dogged," exclaimed Windybank wildly. "Ifthese men see us, our dooms are sealed."
"Thine was almost sealed," said Basil curtly. "'Twas in thine heart toplay us false. Hadst thou held out the hand of friendship to yonderherd of heretics, thou wouldst have found me to-night both thy judgeand executioner. Come, the time is ripe for action. I spare theebecause I need thee; but beware!"
Basil took the pony by the bridle and turned its head towards DeanTower. "Father Jerome awaits thee," he said, "and thy life hangs inthe balance. Go!"
And Windybank went.
[1] The ancient courthouse of the foresters; it still exists.
