Chapter 13 - Page 2

the light
of several torches and a cresset full of burning coals, the
battlements lined with faces. He saw the men's eyes turning hither
and thither in quest of him; but he was too far below, the light
reached him not, and they looked in vain.

And now he perceived that the rope was considerably too long, and
he began to struggle as well as he could towards the other side of
the moat, still keeping his head above water. In this way he got
much more than halfway over; indeed the bank was almost within
reach, before the rope began to draw him back by its own weight.
Taking his courage in both hands, he left go and made a leap for
the trailing sprays of willow that had already, that same evening,
helped Sir Daniel's messenger to land. He went down, rose again,
sank a second time, and then his hand caught a branch, and with the
speed of thought he had dragged himself into the thick of the tree
and clung there, dripping and panting, and still half uncertain of
his escape.

But all this had not been done without a considerable splashing,
which had so far indicated his position to the men along the
battlements. Arrows and quarrels fell thick around him in the
darkness, thick like driving hail; and suddenly a torch was thrown
down - flared through the air in its swift passage - stuck for a
moment on the edge of the bank, where it burned high and lit up its
whole surroundings like a bonfire - and then, in a good hour for
Dick, slipped off, plumped into the moat, and was instantly
extinguished.

It had served its purpose. The marksmen had had time to see the
willow, and Dick ensconced among its boughs; and though the lad
instantly sprang higher up the bank, and ran for his life, he was
yet not quick enough to escape a shot. An arrow struck him in the
shoulder, another grazed his head.

The pain of his wounds lent him wings; and he had no sooner got
upon the level than he took to his heels and ran straight before
him in the dark, without a thought for the direction of his flight.

For a few steps missiles followed him, but these soon ceased; and
when at length he came to a halt and looked behind, he was already
a good way from the Moat House, though he could still see the
torches moving to and fro along its battlements.

He leaned against a tree, streaming with blood and water, bruised,
wounded, alone, and unarmed. For all that, he had saved his life
for that bout; and though Joanna remained behind in the power of
Sir Daniel, he neither blamed himself for an accident that it had
been beyond his power to prevent, nor did he augur any fatal
consequences to the girl herself. Sir Daniel was cruel, but he was
not likely to be cruel to a young gentlewoman who had other