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The Abbot had rolled ten silver
crowns in a lettuce-leaf and hid them away in the bottom of his
scrip, but that would be a sorry support for twelve long months.
In all the darkness there was but the one bright spot of the
sturdy comrades whom he had left that morning; if he could find
them again all would be well. The afternoon was not very
advanced, for all that had befallen him. When a man is afoot at
cock-crow much may be done in the day. If he walked fast he
might yet overtake his friends ere they reached their
destination. He pushed on therefore, now walking and now
running. As he journeyed he bit into a crust which remained from
his Beaulieu bread, and he washed it down by a draught from a
woodland stream.
It was no easy or light thing to journey through this great
forest, which was some twenty miles from east to west and a good
sixteen from Bramshaw Woods in the north to Lymington in the
south. Alleyne, however, had the good fortune to fall in with a
woodman, axe upon shoulder, trudging along in the very direction
that he wished to go.


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