Having removed the saddle and muffled the horse's eyes, Oswald drew his dagger, and with a swift blow put the animal out of its misery.
"Poor Firebrand!" he exclaimed. "'Tis a sorry ending. But let us hasten, Geoffrey; the rain increaseth."
Together the lads made their way towards the distant cottage, Geoffrey leading his horse, while Oswald bore the trappings and saddlery of his dead steed.
Suddenly a vivid flash of lightning seemed to dart across their path, temporarily blinding them with its intensity. Geoffrey's horse, already rendered strangely unquiet by the tragedy which had overtaken its companion, became mad with terror, and, rearing on its hind legs, wrenched the bridle from its master's hand. Then, snorting wildly, the powerful brute galloped madly away, leaving the two astonished squires gazing after it in bitter dismay.
"By the Rood of Bosham, we are undone!" exclaimed Oswald when he had recovered his speech.
"We shall be utterly so if we tarry here," replied Geoffrey, as another vivid flash played upon the rain-sodden ground. "Let us run to yonder hovel."
"And be soaked to the skin ere we gain it? Nay, let us rather take shelter under that oak," said Oswald, pointing to a large tree that stood in a slight depression in the ground, half a bow-shot away on their left.
The squires, ignorant of the danger they were incurring, made their way to the spot indicated. Here for a while they remained under the shelter of the thick foliage while the torrential rain descended with terrible force.
Ere long, though the tree afforded protection from the falling rain, the surface water began to collect in the hollow surrounding the base of the gnarled trunk.
"Unless we want to be ankle deep in water we must climb into the branches," said Geoffrey. "So up with thee, and I'll throw up the saddle."