He had sprained his ankle badly.
Ulric turned pale.
Osric got up, made several attempts to move onward, but could only limp painfully forward.
"Ulric, I should only destroy both thee and me by perseverance in this course."
"Never mind about me."
"But I do. See this umbrageous oak—how thick its branches; it is hollow too. I know it well. I will hide in the tree, as I have often done when a boy in mere sport. You run on."
"I will; and make the trail so wide that they will come after me."
"But will not this lead them to the haunt?"
"Water will throw them when I come to the swamps. I can take care."
"Farewell, then, my Ulric; the Saints have thee in their holy keeping."