A ball from the petronel of Guy Fawkes pierced his brain, and dropping from his saddle, he sank, together with his horse, which he dragged along with him into the quagmire.
"Waste no more shot," cried Humphrey Chetham; "the swamp will fight our battles for us.

Though I grieve for the loss of my horse, I may be better able to guide you on foot." With this, he seized Viviana's bridle, and drew her steed along at a quick pace, but with the greatest caution.

As they proceeded, a light like that of a lantern was seen to rise from the earth, and approach them.
"Heaven be praised!" exclaimed Viviana: "some one has heard us, and is hastening to our assistance." "Not so," replied Humphrey Chetham.

"The light you behold is an _ignis fatuus_.

Were you to trust yourself to its delusive gleam, it would lead you to the most dangerous parts of the moss." And, as if to exhibit its real character, the little flame, which hitherto had burnt as brightly and steadily as a wax-candle, suddenly appeared to dilate, and assuming a purple tinge, emitted a shower of sparks, and then flitted rapidly over the plain.
"Woe to him that follows it!" cried Humphrey Chetham.
"It has a strange unearthly look," observed Viviana, crossing herself.
"I have much difficulty in persuading myself it is not the work of some malignant sprite." "It is only an exhalation of the marsh," replied Chetham.