Cnut was like a madman, so transported with fury was he; and the archers were also beside themselves.

Cuthbert alone retained his calmness.

Retiring apart from the others, he paced slowly backward and forward among the trees, deliberating upon the best course to be pursued.

The archers gathered round the fire and passed the night in long and angry talk, each man agreeing that in the event of their beloved leader being sacrificed by Sir Rudolph, they would one and all give their lives to avenge him by slaying the oppressor whensoever he ventured beyond the castle gates.
After a time, Cuthbert called Cnut to him, and the two talked long and earnestly.

Cnut returned to his comrades with a face less despairing than that he had before worn, and sent off at once a messenger with all speed to a franklin near the forest to borrow a stout rope some fifty feet in length, and without telling his comrades what the plans of Sir Cuthbert were, bade them cheer up, for that desperate as the position was, all hope was not yet lost.
"Sir Cuthbert," he said, "has been in grievous straits before now, and has gone through them.