And now it seemed that Fortune who with the sun had smiled upon us all day long, withdrew her favor also, for we had traversed scarce a league of the rocky track along which Rhys and his army had fled when thick clouds obscured the narrow sky above us; thunder roared and rumbled in the mountain passes, and torrents of rain began to fall. The darkness swiftly enclosed us, and we had perforce to halt lest we should lose our way amongst the woods and rocks. There, drenched and chilled and worn with a day of riding and battle, we made bivouac and ate of the food in our pouches. Mindful of the skill and daring of the Welsh in night attacks, the Lord Constable posted double lines of sentinels; and we seized such sleep as we might, wrapped in our dripping cloaks and lying upon the grass and leaves. At last, I for one, slumbered heavily; and it seemed but an hour ere our leaders roused us and we saw the black shadows of the mists around us turning gray with morning light. While we ate again of the bread and meat we carried, the Constable despatched two riders with a message to Sir Guy Baldiston at the pass, with commands to send back word to Wallingham of our whereabouts and our intent to pursue the ravagers still farther. In half an hour we were again in saddle, and De Lacey was giving directions for our better ordering to guard against surprise upon the march, when one descried our messengers returning at full gallop and lying low upon their horses’ necks as if in fear of arrows that might come from wayside rocks and trees. They rode indeed not like the soldiers of a victor’s army but like men who are hunted and flee for their lives. In a moment more they had attained our lines, their horses loudly panting with the labor of such galloping over rough and stony paths; and the foremost rider cried out to the Commander: “Oh, my lord! Sir Guy and all his men are slain, and the Welsh have the pass again. We but narrowly escaped being taken ourselves.” The Constable sat on his great war-horse, gazing and frowning at the messenger for a length of time that an arrow, shot strongly upward, might have needed to come again to earth. Then he said, sternly: “And how closely didst thou see all this?” “My lord, we rode within a bowshot. ’Twas something dark and misty; and we knew not what was toward. The pass is filled with Welshmen; and they raise the skull-bone banner. ’Tis an army such as we encountered yesterday.” De Lacey glanced about him at his leaders. “My lords and gentlemen: you hear what has chanced. Shall we attack again from this side or fare onward?” “We must ride onward, my lord, and that quickly,” answered Lord Mountjoy, “we cannot force that narrow pass ’gainst such an army as our messenger describes. Doubtless they hold also the crags above; and from thence they can roll down rocks that would fell and crush any force that attempted it.” “We saw many hundreds of them on the crags above,” put in the messenger.