They went on as swiftly as they dared along the winding path, sometimes hidden by the sedges, which in places rose high enough to shut off the view, while they could not see the horsemen, neither could they be seen until they stepped out again into a clearer space.
"Halt!" came the cry on the night air, and the voice belonged to Cochlaeus.
"On!" exclaimed Engel, moving forward; but a shot rang out, and then another, and yet a third, and they could hear the hissing as the balls flew past them.
"They have struck none of us, thank God!" said Tyndale, moving on again with Engel, after an involuntary pause.
The horsemen were in a group at the opening of the path, helpless and baffled, while the little company still moved on.
"We shall soon be safe," cried the forester. "Another hundred yards and we can be at ease."
"But they may follow," said Herman.
"They will be mad if they do," was the answer; but he had scarcely said as much when Engel's lips parted with wonder. "'Tis madness, surely. 'Tis death to some of them!"
He spoke because three of the soldiers had the audacity to try the path. One led the way on his horse, and another followed, with a third close on his heels. But the feet of the first horse slipped and threw his rider into the midst of the bog.
The scene which followed thrilled those who were watching with horror; not Tyndale and his companions only, but those who were grouped about Cochlaeus. The horse scrambled to his feet and reached the solid ground, but the soldier of the City Guard, throwing out his hands, implored the others to come to his aid. His voice travelled over the marsh, and they heard his hands beat on the slush in his frantic efforts to regain the meadow. It was only possible to watch in helplessness, and the marsh was swallowing him up. The soldier was ere long up to the armpits in the mire, but at last, with a heartrending cry, he disappeared, and the mud and water of the mere closed over him.