The Corporal nodded to the young man, then turned on his heel and presently his voice was heard ringing out the word of command,— "Attention!—Right turn—Quick march!" John Stich and the young man watched the half-dozen red-coated figures as they turned to skirt the cottage: the dull thud of their feet quickly dying away, as they wound their way slowly up the muddy path which leads across the Heath to Aldwark village. CHAPTER III THE FUGITIVE Inside the forge all was still, whilst the last of the muffled sounds died away in the distance. John Stich had not resumed work. It was his turn now to stare moodily before him. The young man had thrown the bellows aside, and was pacing the rough earthen floor of the forge like some caged animal. "Tracked!" he murmured at last between clenched teeth, "tracked like some wild beast! perhaps shot anon like a dangerous cur behind a hedge!" He sighed a long and bitter sigh, full of sorrow, anxiety, disappointment. It had come to this then! His name among the others—the traitors, the rebels! and he an innocent man! "Nay, my lord!" said the smith, quietly, "not while John Stich owns a roof that can shelter you." The young man paused in his feverish walk; a look of gentleness and gratitude softened the care-worn expression on his face: with a boyish gesture he threw back the fair hair which fell in curly profusion over his forehead, and with a frank and winning grace he sought and grasped the worthy smith’s rough brown hand. "Honest Stich!" he said at last, whilst his voice shook a little as he spoke, "and to think that I cannot even reward your devotion!" "Nay, my lord," retorted John Stich, drawing up his burly figure to its full height, "don’t talk of reward. I would gladly give my life for you and your family." And this was no idle talk. John Stich meant every word he said. Honest, kind, simple-hearted John! he loved those to whom he owed everything, loved them with all the devotion of his strong, faithful nature. The late Lord Stretton had brought him up, cared for him, given him a trade, and set him up in the cottage and forge at the cross-roads, and honest Stich felt that as everything that was good in life had come from my lord and his family, so everything he could give should be theirs in return. "Ah! I fear me," sighed the young man, "that it is your life you risk now by sheltering me." Yet it was all such a horrible mistake.