"God be with thee!" the priest had whispered, and with a pressure of the hand that Edgar now knew to be the hand of a friend, he had bade them adieu. The point at which they left the woods was, they knew, in a line with that part of the moat where the low bank rose at the foot of the wall, and as soon as they reached the edge of the water, both slipped noiselessly in and swam gently towards the castle walls. Both were good swimmers, even Peter, in spite of his infirmity, having long since learned to keep himself afloat without difficulty. Edgar carried the line and the improvised grapnel, which had been well swathed in cloths to ensure its falling dully wherever it struck. He also, wore his shirt of mail and his sword. The weight was considerable, but he was too practised a swimmer for that to trouble him for a few dozen yards, and he had a decided objection to being quite defenceless when he had gained entry into the enemy’s quarters. The water struck chill. Heavy weeds that appeared almost to choke the stream clung to their legs and impeded their progress. They could see nothing save a wall of blackness that rose before them forbiddingly. All seemed to be as silent as the tomb. They were slow in making the passage, as their one desire was to make no sound, but presently they reached the side. Touching bottom in several feet of mud, they slowly raised themselves out of the water and began to crawl up the bank. Suddenly they were startled beyond measure by a tremendous screech and flutter which arose from right under their very noses. In their amazement and alarm they sprang back a couple of feet into deep water with a splash, and then saw, or rather heard, a flock of frightened ducks rise with a whirr and cackle from the bank and fly above their heads round the angle of the castle walls. Deeply chagrined, the two young men crawled from the moat upon the bank and lay there listening intently. Such a mischance they had never dreamed of, and it seemed more than possible that it might have alarmed one of the guards and brought him to the spot to learn the cause of the birds’ alarm. With deepest annoyance Edgar upbraided himself for not observing that a flock of half-wild ducks belonging to the castle had made a home on the bank he had counted upon in his plans. For half an hour the two lay in the mud and water without stirring, listening with all their ears and gazing up at the outline of the top of the walls, which they could discern dimly against the sky. But the peering figures of the sentinels that they half-expected to appear never came.