"He caught the lamp from Sprenkel's hand, and went to the wall where the iron ring had been torn away. He was almost speechless with astonishment, and the more so because he had marked, when he ordered Tyndale to be carried to the dungeon, how frail he was.
"Sprenkel told me that Cochlaeus raged and stormed, and vowed every curse on Schouts and his retainers that the Church could heap upon them, until, in his anger, Schouts gripped him at the back of his neck, hurried the Churchman up the steps and along the corridors, then to the gate, which the warden opened in amazement at his call. There, without a word, he hurled him from him, and Cochlaeus, staggering half-way across the drawbridge, fell in a helpless heap, while the portcullis fell, and the gate closed with a clang."
The forester's face seemed aglow with delight, as he stood with folded arms and his back against the cavern wall.
"I've something more to tell you," he said, after a pause. "I was walking through the forest soon after I left you here, and, hearing the sounds of voices, the stamp of horses' hoofs, and the jingle of harness and steel, I moved about as I usually do when I am out on duty.
"'Hi, fellow!' someone cried, and, turning, I saw Cochlaeus and the City Guard. The Churchman, now on horseback, and greatly ruffled, demanded my name.
"'I'm Otto Engel, your reverence,' I answered, 'and I am ranger of the forest.'
"'In the pay of that robber lord in the castle?' he asked me.
"'Nay; I do not work for him, but for a master whom I love.'
"'Hast seen anyone in the forest—an Englishman—that heretic fellow whom they call William Tyndale? He was a prisoner in the castle, but has got away, and must be hiding somewhere.'
"'When was that?' I asked, as simply as I knew how, and with such an air of surprise that he never thought to ask me again if I had seen the man.