He could see the dark light of the low running fire; but there was no longer a mighty blaze, and he knew that the dew of the night was acting as his protector.

The harm that had been as yet done was trifling, if only he could protect himself from further harm.

After leaving the fire, he had still a ride of seven or eight miles through the gloom of the forest--all alone.

Not only was he weary, but his horse was so tired that he could hardly get him to canter for a furlong.

He regretted that he had not brought the boy with him, knowing well the service of companionship to a tired beast.