I will now seek out our
resting-place, and do thou and Fleetfoot follow me." So saying, he
chirruped to his patient horse and led the way carefully; for, however
much Humphrey imagined he depended on dreams, he generally exercised as
good judgment and care as he was able. To-night weary Hugo had
forgotten that Humphrey was his servant, and, as such, bound to obey
him. He felt himself nothing but a tired and homesick boy, and was glad
himself to obey the faithful Saxon, while he thought regretfully of his
uncle the prior, Lady De Aldithely, Josceline, and the valiant William
Lorimer.
It was not Humphrey's intention to go farther that night than
absolutely necessary; and a little later he dismounted and stamped his
feet with satisfaction. "Here be solid ground enough and to spare for
us and the horses and hound," he said, "and here will we rest."
A lone, scrubby tree was at hand, and to that Humphrey made fast the
horses and dog. "No fire to-night. Thy cloak must be thy protection
from the damp," he said. "But the swamp is not so damp as the king's
dungeon, nor so dismal. So let us eat and sleep.
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