The horse came on, regardless of the road, and in the darkness he was making for the bush behind which they waited. The creature came close to them, not seeing where he went in his evident terror, or else spurred on by his rider, but he stumbled at a hidden root, made doubly treacherous by the rain, and fell heavily. His rider crashed against a tree, and fell without a groan and lay still, while the horse, scrambling to his feet, dashed away into the darkness and was no more seen. The forester ran to the rider, and, bending over him, lifted him in his arms; but he laid him down again. "He is dead," he said quietly. "His neck is broken." Horror-stricken at the tragedy, they moved on, leaving the dead man where he lay, and did not stop until they reached a spot where the bushes were so dense that even in broad daylight they would scarcely be seen. "I'll leave you here while I go to a farm near by and wake up the master. He has horses he can lend me if I pay the price." He paused. "I doubt whether he will let me have them without the money down," he added hesitatingly. "I haven't enough with me." "'Tis my charge, Engel," said Byrckmann. "Take my purse, and use it as you deem best." "Ah, now I can get them easily!" the forester exclaimed, with elation. "Keep well in the shelter here, and neither Cochlaeus nor all the City Guard will see you if they bring a hundred lanterns to light up the forest." He went away, and for a long hour they waited for his coming, hearing all the sounds of the forest, the moaning wind, the cracking of roots like the rattle of musketry as some great tree was torn up and fell with a crash. Even the animals who had their home there were too startled to trouble themselves about those who were coming by night into their domain, and the fugitives could hear them whimpering in their terror. The hour seemed never ending. The moments were leaden-footed, and more than once Margaret's mother expressed her fear that Engel had left them to get through the forest how they could. "Don't say that--don't even think it--of Otto Engel," Herman protested. "He is the soul of honour. The farmer must be a heavy sleeper, hard to awake; or there may be some difficulty in getting as many horses as we need all ready for the journey. And Engel would insist on their having a good meal of corn. All takes time." Half an hour more went by, with longer moments still in it, it seemed to the anxious watchers, but then they heard some neighing horses, and the tramp of hoofs, sounding more plainly because the fierceness of the storm had passed. "Where are you?" came the sonorous cry of the forester, and Herman called back; so that he was soon with them, leading a string of five horses, saddled and ready for hard travelling. One of them had a pannier, so arranged that Margaret's mother, when the forester lifted her into it, was able to ride in comfort.