"Her dowry! thou!" echoed Culverhouse in surprise; and then as they walked onwards through the dewy night, Cuthbert could not but tell a little of his purpose to the comrade who had intrusted him with his own secret; and Culverhouse listened with the greatest interest, albeit without quite the same sanguine hope of success that Cuthbert himself entertained. Still, he was of opinion that a patient search and inquiry instituted by an obscure lad like Cuthbert, used to rough ways and the life of the forest, would be more likely to succeed than one set on foot by any person better known. If the old tradition were true that the gipsies had hidden the gold again in spite, it was possible that after this lapse of time the old hatred would have died out, and that somebody might be willing to betray the precious secret for a sufficient reward. At any rate Cuthbert's idea of living in the forest and cultivating and studying these strange folk was amply worth a trial. If his quest succeeded, the whole Trevlyn family would be once more wealthy and prosperous; if not, no harm would have been done, and the youth would have enjoyed his free life and new experiences after the winter spent in the confinement of the great city. The travellers walked on through the twilight and until long after moonrise. They had put a good twelve miles between them and London before they talked of halting. They had no intention of seeking shelter for the night in any wayside hostelry. A hollow tree would give them all the cover they needed, and both had brought with them such supply of provision as would render them independent of chance hospitality for twenty-four hours at least. Cuthbert's quick eyes soon sought out the sort of resting place they desired--a great oak, into whose hollowed trunk the dead leaves had drifted, and were now piled up into a soft heap. Lying luxuriously upon this easy couch, the two travellers took such refreshment as each needed; and as Cuthbert saw in the distance before them the bold outlines of the high ground, part of which went by the name of Hammerton Heath, he recounted to his companion his adventure there the November previous, and by what means he had saved his purse from the hands of the robbers. Culverhouse listened to the story, and when it was done he said: "Take heed, good Cuthbert, that thou dost not meet with a worse mischance than the loss of thy purse. I would sooner have mine filched from me by freebooters than owe aught to Robert Catesby that could give him any claim upon me."