An hour passed. Two hours. Three. Four. There was not the tremor of a muscle among the three.
Five hours passed. Six. Seven. Then Ralph felt that the strain could be borne no longer. He resolved to count a hundred and at the end of that time to rush desperately forward, hoping against hope that the murderous bullet would not find its billet.
Ninety-seven ... ninety-eight ... ninety-nine ... Ralph caught his breath sharply. The finger on the rifle trigger had relaxed.
Sir Ernest had fainted.
In thirty seconds Ralph had bound him hand and foot. With a long, quivering sigh of relief Lady Margaret slid from her horse and threw herself into her rescuer's arms. Ralph crushed her to his breast in a passion of gratitude.
But Lady Margaret quickly disengaged herself. "What about the grouse?" she exclaimed.
"Great heavens!" exclaimed Ralph, snatching out his watch. "It's four o'clock! I have only one hour, and the others will have had eight."
He seized his field-glasses, sprang into the oak and swept the surrounding country. There was not a grouse in sight. He gave vent to an exclamation of despair.
"Follow me!" said Lady Margaret. "I know their sanctuary. You can do it yet."