"Doubtless," thought he, "they are smoking the vermin out, or burning the houses and barns--of which we have heard--within the circle of the Deadly Swamp."
But as the smoke increased more and more, a certain vague feeling of anxiety gained possession of him, and he longed for more accurate means of observation.
"Would I were not so old!
"Oh, young Tristam," he cried, as he observed a Norman boy, son of one of the men-at-arms--a lad of about twelve years of age--"come here!"
"What does all that smoke mean?" cried the lad; "are they burning the encampment of the rebels, or has the forest caught fire? it is dry enough."
"No doubt they are burning the huts of those rebels and outlaws in the Swamp; but, Tristam, thou art young; canst thou not run over through the woods? The hill, whereon the pine lately struck by lightning stands, will command a distant view of the Swamp; then return, and tell me all."
The boy started like a greyhound, and ran through the woods with eagerness.
"A fine stripling, that; the saints grant his arms may turn out as good as his legs," growled out old Raoul; and so he waited with such patience as he could command.
An hour passed, and the old man was dozing, when the boy returned.
"Wake up, old man," he said, "I bring news."