Crossing the clearing, he shouted again, and banged at the door of the hut. It opened presently, and a man stood in the doorway whom Margaret and her father had seen in the streets of the city, but did not know. "What art doing here, Engel?" asked the grey-bearded man, who held a hatchet in one hand and a block of wood in the other. They heard so much, but what followed they did not know, until the forester called on them to come forward and bring his own horse with them. "We're to stay here till it is safe to go forward," said Engel. "The river is too wild to cross, and we may wait here for a day or two, but there is nothing now to fear. You can rest in sweet content, Mistress Byrckmann, and as soon as we can manage it, you will be safely over the river, and out of danger." CHAPTER XXIX THE NIGHT RIDER'S CALL They were away at day-dawn, and long before the sun had risen they had crossed the river in the great ferry boat, which carried them and their horses safely to the other side. They rode direct for the forest there, and Engel, who knew every yard of the path, was making for his father's mill. Unexpectedly the miller himself was in the path when they were but three miles from what they thought would be that day's journey end. "Is all right?" Engel asked anxiously, reining in his horse. "Yes, thank God. But I came on the chance of meeting you and saving you a useless journey. As the good man seemed anxious to get a little nearer to Doctor Martin Luther, and because the way was clear, I sent him across to Raymart's hut, and there he is safe, and the more content because he is a few miles nearer to his destination." "Then we'll ride on at once, father," said Engel, who swung round into another forest path, with the others following. It was nearly evening when they halted outside a charcoal-burner's hut, and when they entered the humble home they saw William Tyndale seated at a table with a Lutheran Testament on one knee and two other books open before him. Opposite to him sat William Roye, a pile of papers on either hand, writing, while in low and thoughtful, and sometimes hesitating tones, weighing in his mind the value of one word against another, his master dictated to him. They were so absorbed in their work that neither of the men had heard the tramp of horses, nor the voices of the riders. Not until Margaret had spoken, as she stood in the open doorway of the room, did they look up; and then Tyndale, laying down his book, came to her with outstretched hands. * * * * * * * Tyndale spent the whole of the night in preparation for his journey to the town which he looked upon as "a desired haven." He anticipated that when he got there he would often be in Martin Luther's company, and have his advice on many a point which perplexed him, scholar though he was.