seemed to see not. But the sound of a tolling bell in the distance awoke him from his dreams. Seizing his cap, he started on the run for the city. On sped the boy, as if on wings. He felt no fatigue. The thought uppermost in his mind was to get there before the prisoner arrived and somehow to rescue him. That noble man from whose lips he had heard the words of eternal life must not suffer death. His blood at least should not be upon his uncle’s head.
A large crowd had already gathered, when Hugo arrived on the scene. It was with great difficulty that he forced himself through the dense throng, and at last stood before the horrible instrument of death. He gave one shuddering glance at the stake, the chains and the faggots, and then awaited the approach of the prisoner. The patrol of Spanish soldiers about the stake was comparatively small. A large company had been drawn up on the outskirts of the crowd, but there were whispered words which reached Hugo’s ears to the effect that the military force about the prisoner was inadequate to secure him if the people could be aroused to action.
The sound of drums was heard. “He is coming! Junius is coming!” The voices in the crowd were awed into silence. A path was made by the soldiers through this seething mass of human beings, and the Huguenot preacher, securely bound and
