Meantime, through the dim, leafy reaches of the forest a man dragged himself painfully, now catching at the great tree-boles that he might not fall, now staggering forward in a vain attempt to run, then dropping on all fours to creep forward, never halting altogether, but ever, in some way or other, pressing onward hour after hour, and so making headway. He had muffled his telltale bell, and his face was set in deadly determination to the gaining of some great end. So the half-wit fared through the forest that night on an errand of human love, and no beast crossed his path to hinder, nor bewraying twig or bough crackled under his feet to warn any foe of his coming. How long Wulf had slept he knew not, but his slumber at last became fitful and uneasy, and presently he was ware of some noise at the great door of the smithy. From the rays of moonlight that stole in through the chinks, he knew that the night must be well-nigh spent, but he was yet heavy with sleep and could not rightly get awake on the moment. He sprang up at last, however, sword in hand, and waited to hear further. If this were a foe it were none of any great strength to stand thus, making no clamor, but calling softly. “Open! Open!” a voice outside cried in a hoarse, imploring whisper. “In the name of Heaven, make haste to open! No foe is here, but only one weak man who comes to warn ye of danger. ’Tis poor Bell-Hutten, who means no harm to him who saved him in the forest. Open! Open!” Softly, then, Wulf drew out the great forged bolt that held it, and keeping the steel weapon-wise in his right hand, threw open the door. “What wouldst have? Art hungry?” “Nay; speak not of my wants, but tell me—art named Wulf, and do men call thee the tinker?” “Some men do; but they be no friends of mine.” “That I warrant; but death is at thy heels; an thou get not from here he will be quickly at thy throat.” “What is toward?” asked Wulf, making ready to step forth. “Nay, that I know not, save that ’tis harm to thee. Yonder I lay where ye left me, when there came two skulkers in the bushes, and one told the other how he had followed one whom, from their talk, I deemed to be thee, and how thou hadst come on to the smithy here. Yet, though they were twain, durst they not come for thee, but went their way to get help at the Swartzburg; whereupon I came away hither, by such snail’s pace as I might; but sore I feared lest they might be here before me. Now get thou away, and quickly!” “I thank thee, friend,” said Wulf, “and straight will I.” Bell-Hutten made a quick gesture. “Alas!” he groaned. “’Tis too late. They be upon thee now!” Sure enough; all too plainly, through the trees, could be heard the sound of horsemen coming up rapidly, albeit with some caution. “Canst not hide?” gasped Bell-Hutten. [Illustration: “WITH THE HEAD OF HIS BATTLE-AX HE STRUCK IT A BLOW THAT SENT IT INWARD.”]