At a word from their leader, the men at once aided Oswald, who drew out
the arrow. The wound bled but slightly, and one of the Welshmen,
tearing off a portion of his garment, bandaged it up. Water was fetched
from the stream below, and a pad of wet cloth laid on the wound at the
back of the head, and kept in its place by bandages. As this was done
Roger gave a faint groan and, a minute after, opened his eyes.
"Do not try to move, Roger," Oswald said. "You are wounded; but not, I
trust, to death. We are prisoners in the hands of the Welsh, but that
chain Glendower's daughter gave me has saved our lives."
A rough litter was constructed of boughs. On this Roger, after his
armour had been taken off, was laid. At their leader's orders six
Welshmen took it up, while two placed themselves, one on each side of
Oswald. Then the leader took the head of the party, and moved away into
the forest.
Oswald's head still swam from the effects of the blow, but as they went
on the feeling gradually ceased, and he was able to keep up with his
captors. Their course was ever uphill, and after an hour's walking they
arrived at a farmhouse, situated just at the upper edge of the forest.
The litter was laid down outside the house.
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