"They are moving away from us, thank God!" exclaimed the forester in a tone of intense relief. "They think, if they are after us, and they must be! that we should make for the beaten pathway, and they mean to take it themselves. This way, then!" The forester took Tyndale's hand, and pulled it through his arm. "Lean hard on me, Master Tyndale. God willing, we shall give Cochlaeus and his men the slip. I think I know this forest better than any of them, and I can take you by paths they have never seen. So I say, 'Thank God for the moonlight.' Now, art ready?" The forest was a dangerous place to travel by night, when the wild creatures, the bears, the wolves, the boars, and wild dogs, were out for food. But they would scarcely face four men, each with some weapon, and moving in a compact little body, and alert for every sound and chance encounter. But even then, since this was a matter of life and death, there could be no thought of hesitation. The last of the horsemen entered the broad forest path when Engel began to move in the other direction, away from them, and away, as he knew, from the place to which he had meant to lead William Tyndale. They went on and on, not going too swiftly, lest they should tire too soon, and always listening for the sound of horses' hoofs and anything like the jingle of steel, in case Cochlaeus had changed his course. Engel led them into the dense shadows, among the bushes, where, when the foliage screened the moonlight, the darkness was blackness. More than once something rushed past them with a snarl or a yelp, and sometimes they heard the jaws of a wolf, or other creature, snap again and again. Once, as the forester led Tyndale away to the left, a wild boar sprang up at their feet, and the glint of the moon through the break in the forest showed them his flashing eyes and his foaming mouth as he sprang away among the undergrowth. "We are safe, Master Tyndale, since you prayed before we started that God would have us in His keeping," said Engel quietly; and Tyndale's answer told him of his quiet assurance. "I know it, Engel. We shall yet praise God for His protecting mercies." They had travelled a good distance, and more than once they had had to rest because Tyndale felt the strain. Yet so far there was no sign of Cochlaeus and his soldiers. Neither had anything human crossed their path. But at last they came to the open country, and across the meadow was a great windmill, now standing still, with no light within to show that anyone was moving. "'Tis my father's mill!" the forester exclaimed; "and we may safely awake him, since you are tired, Master Tyndale. Some food and a rest will do you good, for I am sure you can have but little strength left." "But what of those men who are on our track?" said Tyndale anxiously. "My father will set someone to keep watch, and the country is open, so that no soldiers can come on us unawares." "But if they did?" Tyndale asked doubtfully.