The huge floating mass disappeared at a bend in the stream, and again the eyes of the watchers scanned the waters for some sign of the Marburg.
"I would that William Roye had been less dilatory," Tyndale said presently. "He promised to meet me weeks ago, and said he would send word as to his coming."
"Perhaps he heard that there was danger and dared not come," Herman suggested, without taking his eyes away from the river.
"William Roye was ever afraid of his skin," said Tyndale half bitterly. "But he would have been useful to me as my amanuensis."
"Ha!" exclaimed Herman, starting. "What was that?"
A few yards away he saw a man crawl into view from the bank, and stand up at his full height. From the same spot a boat was pulling into the centre of the stream as if to overtake the raft, which was no more in sight.
It might mean much. It might mean nothing. But whether friend or foe it was not desirable to have anyone so near when the ship they were awaiting might soon come into view. Yet nothing could be done.
"Stand well back in the shadows," Herman whispered. "The man may move away."
It was a difficulty for which they were not prepared. The bare idea of a little company, bent on furthering God's work in the world, resorting to violence was unthinkable; yet, to be cooped up like this, and suffer the ship to go by without her passenger, spelt disaster, for Cochlaeus was a veritable sleuth-hound, and might run Tyndale to earth.
The stranger appeared indifferent whether he was seen or heard, and time seemed to him of no importance, since he looked about him idly. The moon began to flood the meadows more freely, so that the fields and the dells, the woods and cornfields, the distant mountain slopes and their torrents became visible, but the man was the object from which those in hiding could not take their eyes.