To him the whole adventure was a matter of supreme delight—little recked he of the danger attending it!
On the morrow (Tuesday) he mounted his cob and rode to the spot he had selected for the attack.
There were no high-roads in Sussex, but between the villages and the county town well-known beaten tracks existed. These were well-nigh impassable in winter—at other seasons a fair amount of traffic passed along them.
Between Chiddingly and Lewes lay dense woods—the relics of the mighty forest of the Andreadsweald of ancient days. Sometimes the trackway led through forest glades of much beauty; at other times it was a narrow pass between giant oaks and elms whose rich foliage would occasionally meet over the head of the traveller, forming a delicious shade in the hot months of summer.
It was to a place of this latter kind that Ralph came on that fine July morning.
He felt perfectly certain that the Pursuivant would take this route on the following day; any other would involve a détour of several miles in making the journey from Lewes to Chiddingly.
Ralph inspected narrowly the trees which grew on both sides of the track; eventually he seemed to find what he needed, namely, two stout young saplings facing each other with about twenty feet intervening between them.
Then he rode slowly home, and in the evening his rustic friends assembled again, at his summons, in the taproom of the inn, where he gave them his final instructions.
To Susan he said nothing of the scheme on foot; he would not involve her or any member of his family in the dangers of the enterprise.
One great regret filled his heart—the absence of his brother William.