“Escaped!” exclaimed Herne, springing from his steed, and rushing up to him; “dogs! you have played me false. But your lives shall pay the penalty of your perfidy.”
“We had no hand in it whatever,” replied Fenwolf doggedly. “She contrived to get out of a chamber in which I placed her, and to liberate Sir Thomas Wyat. They then procured a steed from the stable, and plunged through the pool into the lake.”
“Hell's malison upon them, and upon you both!” cried Herne. “But you shall pay dearly for your heedlessness,—if, indeed, it has not been something worse. How long have they been gone?”
“It may be two hours,” replied Fenwolf.
“Go to the cave,” cried Herne, “and await my return there; and if I recover not the prize, woe betide you both!”
And with these words, he vaunted upon his steed and disappeared.
“And woe betide you too, false fiend!” cried Fenwolf. “When you come back you shall meet with a welcome you little expect. Would we had fired the train, Tristram, even though we had perished with him!”
“It will be time enough to fire it on his return,” replied the old forester; “it is but postponing our vengeance for a short time. And now to fix our positions. I will take my station in yon brake.”
“And I in that hollow tree,” said Fenwolf. “Whoever first beholds him shall fire the train.”
“Agreed!” replied Tristram. “Let us now descend to the cave and see that all is right in the magazine, and then we will return and hold ourselves in readiness for action.”