"What say you if I leave you here with the others to bear you company, while I go about my business as though nothing had happened? I might even play my part and help the people at the castle—ay! and that rascal, Cochlaeus—in their search for you. But I warrant you 'twill be a vain one. I'd be very diligent for the Churchman."
The cavern rang with the forester's laughter, and he laughed till the tears came, and his body ached when he thought of the chase he would lead them if they suffered him to share in the search.
"I'll bring you food in plenty from time to time, and meanwhile I can think things out and see how we can contrive to get you away. Art willing, Master Tyndale?" he asked, becoming serious.
"I am willing," came the answer; "but I am loth to keep these with me cooped up in the darkness——"
"You shall have light in plenty," the forester interrupted.
"But Herman—think what it means to him, with Margaret Byrckmann waiting for him and wondering what has become of him."
"I'll send her word," said Engel seriously.
"Had I but paper and ink, I could have gone on with my work," said Tyndale. "I should have been using up my hours, and this task would be so much nearer to completion. Roye could have written while I dictated."
"So he shall. I know a priest who is a man of letters, and I can tell him some story which will induce him to give me both pen and paper," said the forester, disposing of that difficulty.
"As for me," said Herman, longing though he was to go back to Margaret, if only to see her for an hour, but feeling that, so far as duty went, it was here, by Tyndale's side—"as for me, I shall stay and keep watch if Otto Engel will only set you going on your work, Master Tyndale!" he exclaimed earnestly.