Only the leader and some dozen men stayed with me.
So they took me for many a long mile, always going seaward, until we were in a deep valley that bent round among the hills until its head was lost in their folds, and there was some sort of a camp of these outlaws sheltered from any wind that ever blew, and with a clear brook close at hand.

All round on the hillsides was the forest, but there was one landmark that I knew.
High over the valley's head rose a great hill, and on that was an ancient camp.

It was what they call the "Dinas," the refuge camp of the Quantock side, which one can see from Glastonbury and all the Mendips.
Here they took me from the horse and bound my feet afresh, and took the gag from my mouth and set me against a tree, and so waited until the band had gathered once more, lighting a great fire meanwhile.

Glad enough was I of its warmth, for it is cold work riding bound through the frost.
When that was done the leader bade some of those with him fetch the goods to this place, and catch some ponies ready against the journey.

I could not tell what this might mean, but I thought that they had no intention of biding here, and I was sorry in a dull way.