Robin slept and dreamed of Ferne House and the horns of the hunters. At
last the horns came so loudly over the hills that he awakened, to find
himself lying alone on the sand in a great and solemn flush of dawn. He
started up with a beating heart; but there, coming towards him from a
bath in the misty sea, was his master, dressed, and with his sword again
in its sheath. As he made closer approach, the strengthening dawn showed
the distinction of form and countenance. To the latter had returned the
stillness and the worn beauty of yesterday, before the bark from
Pampatar had brought news. The head was bared, and the light fell
curiously upon the short and waving hair, imparting to it, as it seemed,
some quality of its own. Robin, beholding, stumbled to his feet, staring
and trembling.

"Why dost thou shake so?" asked the Captain of the _Sea Wraith_. "And
thou art as white as is the sand! God forfend that the fever be
on thee!"

More nearly the old voice of before these evil days of low, stern
utterance! More nearly the old, kindly touch! Robin-a-dale, suddenly
emboldened, caught at hand and arm and burst into a passionate outcry, a
frenzy of entreaty. "Home! home! may we not go home now? They're all
dead--Captain Robert Baldry and Ralph Walter and all! And you meant no
harm by them--O Jesu! you meant no harm! There's gold in the hold of the
_Sea Wraith_ for to buy back Ferne House, and now that you've won, and
won again from the Spaniard, the Queen will not be angry any more! And
Sir John and Sir Philip and Master Arden will bid us welcome, and men
will come to stare at the _Sea Wraith_ that has fought so many battles!
Master, master, let us home to Ferne House, where, at sunset, in the
garden, you and the lady walked! Master--"