"Sit down, Otto, while I am putting some things together, and I will tell you something," Herman said, and in the bedroom, after the two men had tramped up the stairs, Otto listened to the story of the contemplated flight from the city.
"God's hand is in this," the forester said, when Herman had told him all. "If that simple lad will let me join you, I can get you all to a place where I can hire horses, and we will ride to my father's mill, and on to William Tyndale. Then we can make our other plans; but this is the pressing thing just now—to get that dear girl and her loved ones away from the city. Shall I come?"
Herman looked at the ranger's giant frame, and his heart leapt at the thought of his help.
"It will be splendid," he cried. "Shall we go to Heinrich's stable now? I am ready, if mother has some warm wrappings for Margaret."
"They are here, my son," the woman said, pointing to a heap of things on the couch downstairs when they were all standing in the room which seemed small with two such men in it. "I will wrap them in a bundle, and you must be gone."
She threw her arms about Herman's neck presently, kissed him passionately, and told him how she would spend the night in prayer for their good speeding.
"Wilt come to me some early day, Otto Engel, and tell me how they fared?" she asked, standing with her hand on the lock before she opened the street door.
"With all my heart," the forester answered, and then the two men went into the street, where, as they faced the sweeping rain and wind, they staggered and fought hard to keep their feet.