The man with the deep voice, who seemed to be the leader, betrayed a savage impatience. He had the hard, flat, high-cheeked face of a Mongol, with a brutal mouth, and cold blue eyes.
“The devil fly away with all women! Young Dale was a fool to take the wench with him, and Falconer was a fool to trouble his head about her.”
“That is not the whole story, Sir Gregory.”
“Damn your story! They have rushed matters too rashly. We may have to fight before we are ready. Now for the baggage. Have you any horses above?”
“Six.”
“Bustle up, then. The sooner we are knee-deep in the Forest the better.”
The baggage was carried up the cliff and lashed on the backs of the pack-horses. The men who had landed were well armed under their cloaks. Sir Gregory took the lead, one of the foresters walking beside him.
“Now, man, this story of yours; let us hear it.”
The forester told all that he knew concerning Mellis and her championing by Martin Valliant.
The round-headed man was not pleased.