THE effect was so sudden and magical, that the shooter himself was
stupefied for an instant. Then he hailed his companions to join him in
effecting the capture, and himself set off up the hill: but, ere he had
got half way, up rose the figure of Martin Wittenhaagen with a bent bow
in his hand. Eric Wouverman no sooner saw him in this attitude, than he
darted behind a tree, and made himself as small as possible. Martin's
skill with that weapon was well known, and the slain dog was a keen
reminder of it.
Wouverman peered round the bark cautiously: there was the arrow's point
still aimed at him. He saw it shine. He dared not move from his
shelter.
When he had been at peep-bo some minutes, his companions came up in
great force.
Then with a scornful laugh, Martin vanished, and presently was heard to
ride off on the mule.
All the men ran up together. The high ground commanded a view of a
narrow but almost interminable glade.
They saw Gerard and Margaret running along at a prodigious distance;
they looked like gnats; and Martin galloping after them _ventre à
terre_.
The hunters were outwitted as well as outrun. A few words will explain
Martin's conduct. We arrive at causes by noting coincidences: yet, now
and then, coincidences are deceitful. As we have all seen a hare tumble
over a briar just as the gun went off, and so raise expectations, then
dash them to earth by scudding away untouched, so the burgomaster's mule
put her foot in a rabbit-hole at or about the time the cross-bow bolt
whizzed innocuous over her head: she fell and threw both her riders.
Gerard caught Margaret, but was carried down by her weight and impetus;
and behold, the soil was strewn with dramatis personæ.
The docile mule was up again directly, and stood trembling. Martin was
next, and looking round saw there was but one in pursuit; on this he
made the young lovers fly on foot, while he checked the enemy as I have
recorded.
He now galloped after his companions, and, when after a long race he
caught them, he instantly put Gerard and Margaret on the mule, and ran
by their side till his breath failed, then took his turn to ride, and so
in rotation. Thus the runner was always fresh, and, long ere they
relaxed their speed, all sound and trace of them was hopelessly lost to
Dierich and his men. These latter went crest-fallen back to look after
their chief, and their winged bloodhound.