Before Sir Leycester and his attendants cleared the first obstacle, they had leaped a five-barred gate, and were flying across the second field.
In half a minute more they had plunged into the thicket, and fancied themselves secure.
Sir Leycester, on the other hand, who was close at their heels, knew very well they had run into the trap and chuckled at the thought of their speedy capture.
Causing his companions to disperse, he went towards the centre of the wood, expecting to find Booth with the keeper and the hounds.
Meanwhile, the gipsies, being well acquainted with the thicket, made their way to its inmost recesses, where the brambles and underwood would render it difficult, if not impossible, for the horsemen to follow them.
They heard Marple and the others on their left and right, pushing their way through the trees, and vainly endeavouring to get near them. They, therefore, felt quite safe; the only unpleasantness being that they might be detained there till night.
But this feeling of security was quickly dispelled by some sounds they did not at all like. They first heard voices at a distance, accompanied by the crackling of small branches, announcing that some persons on foot were searching for them, and Ekiel remarked, in a low tone, to his comrade:
“Why, that's Ned Rushton, the keeper's voice. We're not safe here, if he's after us.”
“Keep quiet,” muttered Clynch. “He mayn't come this way.”
Shortly afterwards, a low, ominous growl, not to be mistaken by the experienced, reached their ears, and filled them with alarm.