"If we have to force our way through all this brushwood," answered the bishop in the same tone, "the noise will instantly betray the way we take."
"Fear not," replied Boyd, "only follow me close and steadily. Leaders make bad followers, I know; but it must be so just now."
Thus saying, he pushed aside some of the young ash trees, and held them back with his strong arm, while the bishop came after. Three steps were sufficient to bring them, through the thick screen, to the end of a small path, not above three feet in width, but perfectly clear and open. It was drawn in a line as straight as a bowstring, and had probably been formed for the purposes of the chase; for arrow or bolt sent along it could not fail to hit any object of large size, such as a stag or fallow deer, at any point within shot. The bishop, it is true, could not see all this, for the boughs were thick overhead, though cleared away at the sides; and he followed slowly and cautiously upon the woodman's steps, setting down his feet with that sort of timid doubt which every one feels more or less when plunged in utter darkness.
Steadily and quietly the woodman walked on, seeming to see his way as well in the deep night as he could have done in the full day; and at length, after having proceeded, for what seemed to his companion much more than one mile, he again stopped, where the path abruptly terminated in another thicket. As no sign would have been effectual to convey his meaning, in the profound darkness which reigned around, the woodman was fain to whisper to his companion, to remain for a moment where he stood, while an examination was made to ascertain whether the great road was clear. He then forced his way forward through the boughs; and a moment after the bishop heard the whining of a dog, followed by the voice of the woodman, saying, "Down, Ban, down. Seek, boy, seek. Is there a strange foot?"
A short interval elapsed; and then was heard the sound of a low growl, very close to the spot where the prelate himself was stationed.
"Nay, that is a friend," said the woodman, in a low tone. "Come in, Ban! To heel, good dog."
The sound of the stout and stalwart form of his companion, pushing its way once more through the brushwood, was then heard; and Boyd again stood by the good prelate's side.
"All is safe," he said; "and now you must force your way forward, at the risk of tearing your gown. But never mind that, for you must not travel in this attire;" and he led the way on.
After a struggle of some difficulty with the brambles and thin shoots of the ash which formed the copse, the bishop found himself in the midst of a small open space, with the road running across it, and the woodman's cottage on the other side. The door was open; and a faint glare, as from a half-extinguished fire, came forth into the air, showing the tall sinewy form of the woodman, and the gaunt outline of his gigantic hound. The cottage soon received the whole party; and, closing and barring the door, Boyd pointed to the threshold, saying to the dog, "Down, Ban! Watch!" and immediately the obedient animal laid himself across the door way, and remained with his head raised, his ears erect, and his muzzle turned towards the entrance, as if listening for the sound of approaching footsteps.
"Now, reverend father and good lord," said Boyd, "we must not daily. You must throw away that gown, and put on this common waggoner's frock. You must cover the tonsure with this peasant's bonnet, and take part in driving a load of wood a stage on the way to Litchfield. You will be met with by those who will see you safely to the coast; and you will have one with you who will in reality perform the office--unworthy of your profession and name--which you must seem to fulfil only for the sake of security. I will bring you the garments in a moment; but first," he continued, "let me place in your hands this letter, which you must conceal with the greatest care, and contrive to convey it to the earl of Richmond. How it fell into my hands matters not; but, if you run your eye over it, you will see that it contains all the information for which you were inclined to wait.--Stay, I will give you a light;" and, stirring the fire into a blaze, he lighted a lamp at the flame.