"Well, then," answered Wamba, "your reverences must hold on this path till you come to

a sunken-cross, of which scarce a cubit's length remains above ground; then take the path to the left, for there are four which meet at Sunken Cross, and I trust your reverences will obtain shelter before the storm comes on."

The Abbot thanked his sage adviser; and the cavalcade, setting spurs to their horses, rode on as men do who wish to reach their inn before the bursting of a night-storm. As their horses' hoofs died away, Gurth said to his companion, "If they follow thy wise direction, the reverend father will hardly reach Rotherwood this night."

"No," said the jester, grinning, "but they may reach Sheffield if they have good luck, and that is as fit a place for them. I am not so bad a woodsman as to shew the dog where the deer lies, if I have no mind he should chase him."

"Thou art right," said Gurth; "it were ill that Aymer saw the lady Rowena; and it were worse, it may be, for Cedric to quarrel, as is most likely, with this military monk. But, like good servants, let us hear and see, and say nothing."