Now when either man or woman is embarked upon any hazardous undertaking ’tis but scant wisdom to indulge in triumphant rejoicing before the success of the enterprise be thoroughly assured. Had Barbara borne this in mind and given less rein to her hopeful imagination she had doubtless been better prepared for what followed. For as they approached the top of the stairway and she was hugging herself over the success of her bravado, the pedlar suddenly stumbled forward upon his face, slipped down two steps, striking his boots against the girl’s ankles, and before she rightly realised what was happening had twisted himself backwards under the guard of her rapier, knocked up her arm and flinging her roughly aside he started down the stairs. Barbara clutched at the balustrade to save herself from falling headlong, and in so doing dropped the pistol. The suddenness of the attack had completely shattered her nerve, she could do nothing save cling to the oak railing and gaze helplessly after the retreating figure of the pedlar. As for Simon, he paused neither for his pack nor his letter, but made all speed to reach the open door of the hall, and he would assuredly have escaped unopposed but for the sudden intervention of an unexpected enemy. He had already reached the threshold, and in another minute would have been free, when Cicely, with a sudden thought born of the very nearness of the danger, sprang to her feet and gave a shrill whistle. There was a low, fierce growl, a quick rush of feet. "Down with him, Butcher, at him! at him!" cried Cicely, and the next moment the pedlar was pulled to the ground and struggling wildly with the enormous wolfhound which had answered his mistress’s eager summons and now stood over Simon shaking and worrying him as if he had been a rat. If the man’s life were to be saved there was clearly no time to be lost, and the two girls hurried to the spot to interpose between the dog and his victim. It was no easy task, for the dog was savage with fury, but at length Cicely succeeded in dragging him away, while Barbara fell on her knees beside the man anxiously inquiring of his injuries. "Oh! I can trust thou art not greatly hurt," she gasped; "tho’ in truth ’twere but thy deserts. Canst not speak, fellow? Nay, prithee what ails thee? Alack! I fear me Butcher has hurt thee sorely, and yet truly I would it were more. Indeed the dog should be chained, tho’ I am right thankful he was free." So she continued, torn between a woman’s compassion for his overthrow and a deep sense of relief at their escape. Meanwhile Cicely having somewhat pacified the indignant Butcher returned to the pedlar’s side. She could not repress a smile as she listened to her cousin’s contradictory outburst. She had no pity to spare for the man who had so threatened the life of her lover.