They returned thence to the spot where Torquelle was slain. Fear
and trembling seized many of the baron's warriors as they gazed
upon those distorted features--fear, mingled with dread--so
mysterious were the circumstances. They buried the body as decently
as time permitted, and continued their course until they came upon
another corpse slain in like manner.
Horror increased: at every stage the baron feared to find the dead
body of his son. They still pursued the same line: it led to the
edge of the Dismal Swamp, and there it ended.
They stood gazing upon that desolate wilderness.
"No human being could penetrate there," said Sir Bernard.
"Try."
Hugo advanced, dismounting for the purpose, but sank almost
directly in a quagmire covered with snow, and was drawn out with
difficulty.
"No, the place is enchanted."
"Guarded by fiends."
"Listen."
Cries as of men and dogs came across the waste.
"They are the demons of the pit, who would lead us into the
quagmires."
"They sound like human voices."
"Come what will, if hard frost will but freeze the ground, we will
search the place," said the baron. "Come, my men, we can do no
more; let us return--it is near nightfall."
This welcome order was obeyed by all the Normans with the greatest
alacrity, for they dreaded the approach of night, and the terrors
of the forest, which had already proved so fatal to their
companions.
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