“This way. The bank is low by the orchard; we can land there. That man! I was forgetting him.”
“Swartz?”
“Yes.”
Her sudden, sensitive trepidation thrilled him. He found that he had forgotten Swartz.
“Swartz is in the woods over yonder. He swam across with me. It was his horn that you heard. We owe—this—to him.”
“What! He is on our side now?”
“Yes.”
“That is noble.”
They reached the shallows just as Fulk de Lisle’s torches came flaring to the landward bank. The men could see nothing but ripples; the light did not carry to the island. One of the fellows hurled his torch out into the darkness at a venture. It kissed the water, threw out a momentary radiance, and went out.
Martin was up the bank, and reaching for Mellis’s hands. They heard Fulk de Lisle cursing.