So, bending low down over his saddle-bow, and reaching out his right arm as far as he was able to stretch, he awaited the critical moment when the drowning man should be swept down towards him. Then, quick as thought, he gripped with an iron grasp at the black frock in which the figure was clothed, and turned his horse sharply round. The good steed fought her way bravely out of the stream, her rider dragging the drowning man behind him.
The moment he found himself on dry land once more, Ralph leaped off to breathe his horse, and to look at the half-unconscious man he had rescued, and who was clad in the lay or serving brother's habit of the Benedictines.
Kneeling by his side, the knight chafed his wet face and hands, and presently his eyes opened, and he sat up.
"Thanks to Our Lady and St. Benedict!" he muttered, "and to you, Sir Knight! But I thought it was all over with me."
"And, in good sooth, I thought so too, my good fellow!" exclaimed Sir Ralph, stamping to shake the water off his leathern hose and jerkin and woollen surcoat. "But how came you to venture alone, and without a guide, across the ford at flood time?" he added, much relieved to see the lay-brother, who was young and robust, rise to his feet and begin to wring his habit.
"I was bred and born in these parts, Sir Knight," replied the latter, "and I could find my way across Milton Ford blindfold. Nay, I have even crossed it in worse seasons than this. But that was before I took upon me this habit, and I trow our holy founder did not contemplate that his followers should have to swim for their lives in it. Moreover, I have travelled far and swiftly, and I am weary."
"And have you much further to go yet?" inquired the knight.
"But as far as Bletsoe," replied the lay-brother.
"Then get you up behind me on my horse," answered Ralph, "and together we will take our road, for my journey also ends at Bletsoe."
"Nay, Sir Knight," replied the lay-brother, glancing at Ralph's gilt spur of knighthood; "that would be far from seemly. This is not the first time by any means that the Ouse has tried to knock the breath out of my body, for I was brought up on his banks. My father is one of the retainers of my Lord de Pateshulle, and lives just between my lord's house and the river. Moreover, it will be best for me to trudge along on foot, and maybe my clothes will be dry before I have finished my journey. Not that I can ever forget your kind help, sir, or my merciful deliverance, thanks be to God," he added, devoutly crossing himself.