eyes, one feeble movement of the expressive tail, and Spring had
made his last farewell! That was all Stephen was conscious of; but
Ambrose could hear the cry, "Good sirs, good lads, set me free!" and
was aware of a portly form bound to a tree. As he cut the rope with
his knife, the rescued traveller hurried out thanks and demands--
"Where are the rest of you?" and on the reply that there were no
more, proceeded, "Then we must on, on at once, or the villains will
return! They must have thought you had a band of hunters behind
you. Two furlongs hence, and we shall be safe in the hostel at
Dogmersfield. Come on, my boy," to Stephen, "the brave hound is
quite dead, more's the pity. Thou canst do no more for him, and we
shall soon be in his case if we dally here."

"I cannot, cannot leave him thus," sobbed Stephen, who had the
loving old head on his knees. "Ambrose! stay, we must bring him.
There, his tail wagged! If the blood were staunched--"

"Stephen! Indeed he is stone dead! Were he our brother we could
not do otherwise," reasoned Ambrose, forcibly dragging his brother
to his feet. "Go on we must. Wouldst have us all slaughtered for
his sake? Come! The rogues will be upon us anon. Spring saved
this good man's life. Undo not his work. See! Is yonder your
horse, sir? This way, Stevie!"

The instinct of catching the horse roused Stephen, and it was soon
accomplished, for the steed was a plump, docile, city-bred palfrey,
with dapple-grey flanks like well-stuffed satin pincushions, by no
means resembling the shaggy Forest ponies of the boys' experience,
but quite astray in the heath, and ready to come at the master's
whistle, and call of "Soh! Soh!--now Poppet!" Stephen caught the