Whilst this conversation was proceeding the three were rapidly pressing on, Badger having by this time put eight or ten miles between himself and the Norman foe. But in the vast distance before them there seemed to loom an unending stretch of moorland, vast and drear and dark. In the pale moonlight the mists could be seen climbing the heights, or creeping lazily along the hollows, where damp and bogs abounded. Like huge repositories of old-world histories these grim old hills seemed--dwarfing human nature into nothingness in their presence--"everlasting hills," broad-based and firm; defying the storms of winter, and bathing their heads in the golden sunshine of summer; unmoved amid the changes, transformations, and fierce race struggles which were being fought out with relentless cruelty around their base; and offering a cold, unsympathetic shelter to fugitives flying to them for safety. "Keep to the left, Badger. We must keep on the outskirts of that vapour, or we shall be speedily up to the knees in a bog. We have not far to go. Do you see the tops of those fir-trees just peeping over those boulders? That is our headquarters, and Oswald will be there." Presently the persons of two scouts could be seen moving amid the stones, and evidently reconnoitring the new-comers. A low, shrill whistle is given by one of them, and is answered by Badger's friends; at which signal they drew near to interview the strangers. Then it was seen that the tops of the fir trees were but the outermost ring of a dense wood, which lined the sides of a mammoth ravine, with a still lake of water, or tarn, lying placidly in its hollow. "Is Oswald here to-night?" was the first inquiry. "Yes. What news?" "All right so far; but there will be a lively time to-morrow. Badger, here, has brought the news. Let him have speech with the Earl forthwith." So the three dismounted, and began slowly to thread their way by a path, winding and difficult, with branches hanging low, and brushwood closing up, so as to make progress impossible except in single file. By-and-bye the bottom is reached, and before them there stands--what was totally concealed from any one skirting the wood on the outside--a spacious one-storied building near the head of the tarn. As they drew near, a fierce growling of a watch-dog was heard, and a challenge was addressed to them by some one hid from view by the dense brushwood. The answer being satisfactory the horses were tied to the trees, and the stranger led them by a winding path to the rear of the dwelling. A gentle tap being given to the door, a woman's voice challenges the visitors; but soon the bolts are withdrawn, and the party enters what was evidently the kitchen quarters. "Has the Earl retired?" said Bretwul to his wife. "Yes, long ago. There has not been a sound in the house these two hours."