"We cannot catch him, and if we could he would defend himself now," said the man who had guarded Lionel, in a voice of anger and concern. "Woe the day! What will Sir Percival say?"
"His orders were that not an instant was he to be out of our sight," said the other man. "One or the other of us was to be on the watch."
"And he was not out of my sight," said the first man. "I only left his side a moment before to look at the weathercock, and he stood alone just where I left him as I turned back. We came through the doorway together, then he pushed me fairly over and ran away. Woe the day! I shall lose both respect and reward."
"How in the name of Great Cæsar could he have gotten a message about the horse?" asked the second man. "I have seen no one around."
"Nor have I," was the reply. "Beshrew me, but I could half believe the Fairies or the witches have been about! It is a mystery indeed."
He added, gloomily:
"Now I must acquaint Sir Percival of what hath happened, and, by my faith, I had rather take a ducking or show a broken limb."
It seemed to Sally that the men would never be done looking about, peering here and there, but keeping near the house, as if bent on finding some one who had helped Lionel's escape. It was not until the middle of the morning that they went into the barn; then, with many a halt, she finally let herself down from the tree, but only to hide behind another.
Sally was thankful when at last she found herself in the road after creeping from one cover to another. Then, with a slouching step, she moved more rapidly away.
For a long time she kept steadily on, then, at a great field she was passing, an ox team, loaded with marshy grass, came toward the road.