And here in this clearing he came upon the object of his search, and saw that his surmise as to the cause of the cries he had heard was only too correct.

Four big burly men, all armed with the weapons of the day--bills, maces, and even the handgun, which was beginning to find a place amongst the more time-honoured arms of offence and defence--were surrounding the struggling figure of a woman, a young woman the traveller fancied, from her slimness and the cat-like agility which she displayed in struggling with her captors.
It appeared as if the men did not desire to hurt her if they could avoid doing so, but rather wished to make of her a prisoner; whilst she was making the most frantic efforts to escape from their restraining hands, and was uttering strangled cries for help, which were so deadened by the thick folds of the heavy driving cloak, which had been wrapped about her head, as to be barely audible even at a short distance.
"Let her fight and struggle," said a tall, broad-shouldered man with a darkly sinister face, who stood a little apart all this while, keeping, however, a very close watch upon the group.

"She will soon tire herself out, and then we can carry her away peacefully.

Don't hurt her.

Let her have her fling--it won't last long--and she will be all the tamer afterward." The traveller, who was but a stripling himself, set his teeth hard as he heard these words spoken.