"
"My lord, would it please thee to number the party? we should be
twenty."
"Count them thyself," he said.
"Fifteen."
"We left one behind us where we rested, but where are the rest?"
said Ralph.
"It is useless to search for them now--it is so dark, the hour is
late--we must return tomorrow."
"Perhaps," said the old forester, sorrowfully, "but we are in a
forest infested by these English fiends, perhaps by real demons.
There are many who affirm as much, and there is not a man here who
might not profitably give up a year of his life to be just five
miles nearer home."
The old man took the office of guide upon himself, naturally, as
the most experienced in woodcraft, and for a mile or two led with
confidence; but at length the darkness became intense, and the
guide paused.
The night was indeed terrible; it was as black as ink--they could
scarce see the uplifted hand when held before the face; while, to
add to their discomfort, the snow, now they had changed their
course, blew into their faces; the wind had risen and moaned in
hollow gusts amidst the tree tops. Its wailings seemed like
prognostications of coming evil.
It was at this juncture Ralph was forced to confess he could no
longer feel certain of the track.
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