While the man, whose hands were disengaged, was striving to take the weapon from him, the fierce barking of a dog was heard, accompanied by shouts, and the earl at once comprehending from the sounds that Nathan the woodcutter was at hand with Cheviot, called out loudly:
“To the rescue, Nathan; to the rescue!”
“Here I am, my lord,” responded the sturdy woodcutter, as he and his hound burst through the trees.
A bullet whistled past his head, as he appeared on the scene, but luckily did him no injury.
Next moment, however, the stout cudgel he grasped was falling heavily upon the earl's captors, while Cheviot's fierce barking terrified their horses so much, that the animals broke away in spite of their riders' efforts to restrain them, and being allowed no rest by the hound who continued to attack their heels, were soon driven off altogether.
“I shall not forget the great service you have just rendered me, Nathan,” said Lord Derwentwater. “But for you these villains would have carried me off as a prisoner.”
“I am right glad I arrived in time,” replied the woodcutter. “Cheviot warned me of your lordship's danger.”
“Ah! did he so?” cried the earl.
And when the faithful animal came back from the chase, he warmly praised him and caressed him.
“Now, hie thee to the castle, Nathan,” said the earl. “See her ladyship, and tell her from what a peril you have rescued me. She will know how to recompense you.”