A hollow tree would give them all the cover they needed, and both had brought with them such supply of provision as would render them independent of chance hospitality for twenty-four hours at least.
Cuthbert's quick eyes soon sought out the sort of resting place they desired--a great oak, into whose hollowed trunk the dead leaves had drifted, and were now piled up into a soft heap.

Lying luxuriously upon this easy couch, the two travellers took such refreshment as each needed; and as Cuthbert saw in the distance before them the bold outlines of the high ground, part of which went by the name of Hammerton Heath, he recounted to his companion his adventure there the November previous, and by what means he had saved his purse from the hands of the robbers.
Culverhouse listened to the story, and when it was done he said: "Take heed, good Cuthbert, that thou dost not meet with a worse mischance than the loss of thy purse.

I would sooner have mine filched from me by freebooters than owe aught to Robert Catesby that could give him any claim upon me." Cuthbert looked up quickly.

Since that night when he had delivered the papers to Catesby, and had seen and heard so much that was mysterious, he had gradually let the strange incident slip from his memory.

Nothing had occurred to recall it, or to render him in any wise uneasy.