"We're too near the robber's den," said Engel quietly. "I can see the castle lights. And would you believe it? There are torches moving on the slope, and Schouts and his men are out for their savage work," he muttered. "Follow me. I'm going farther into the forest before we ride direct to our destination. I had no idea that there would be piracy on such a night, and at this mad hour!" Turning his back on the castle and the river, he rode on into the darkest part of the forest, frightening some of the creatures who had already feared the storm. When he had gone a mile or more, he turned sharply round, and presently they came to an open glade, which they could clearly see, in contrast with the dense wood through which they had been riding. "We must cross that bit of grass, and from that moment you may all dismiss your fears," said the forester, in a lighter tone than he had used that night. "I have gone through the forest a hundred times and never saw anything human in it yet in these parts. And what is more, there is no path, so that I must pick my way, and you must follow." The forester went forward like a man with an easy mind. Any fears which the others had, dropped away from them when they heard him talking to his horse, or whistling a song which the Protestants sang in their secret forest meetings. Margaret rode at Herman's side, so much at ease with this new confidence that she could talk with him. They rode on for a couple of hours, and then the dawn came. Almost insensibly they halted to watch the beauty of the morning after such a night of storm. The sun came up in silvery splendour above a wooded hill, and a radiance seemed to rest as on a cushion of the mist. Trees and undergrowth, forest path and fallen branches, were all hidden until the daylight conquered, and the great orb of day, riding above the wooded depths, sent forth his light, so that there was no more night, and no more mist. But with the glory of the new day, and the songs of the birds, there came a thrill of fear. A forest clearing was before them, and beyond it they saw the great river rolling by. In the midst of the clearing was a hut, and already some blue smoke was curling from its solitary chimney. Margaret's eyes fastened on the place, and her eyes betrayed her fear. "Is it not dangerous to be so near that house?" she asked, turning her anxious face to the forester. He laughed at her words. "Fritz Schiller is as true a Protestant as any man in the land. Ask him for a Lutheran Testament, and he will show you one. Let anyone ask him for you if you are sheltering in his home, and if he has promised to hide you he would die rather than betray you. I had thought at one time of bringing William Tyndale here, but took him instead to the mere near my father's house, but not because I did not trust this man." "Fritz!" the forester shouted, his stentorian voice startling the birds that were near, as soon as he had dropped out of his saddle.