came thumping down behind.

"Stop him! Stop him there!" he heard the master-player shout, and there
was something in the fierce, high voice that turned his whole heart
sick. What right had they to stop him? This was not the Stratford road;
he was certain of that now. But "Stop him--stop him there!" he heard the
master-player call, and a wild, unreasoning fright came over him. He dug
his heels into the palfrey's heaving sides and urged him up the hill
through the cloud of dust that came rolling down behind the horsemen.
The hindmost riders had plunged into those before, and the whole array
was struggling, shouting, and wrangling in wild disorder; but out of the
flurry Carew and the bandy-legged man with the ribbon in his ear spurred
furiously and came galloping after him at the top of their speed.

Nick cried out, and beat the palfrey with the rein; but the chase was
short. They overtook him as he topped the hill, one on each side, and,
leaning over, Carew snatched the bridle from his hand. "Thou little
imp!" he panted, as he turned the roan around and started down the hill.
"Don't try this on again!"

"Oh, Master Carew," gasped Nick, "what are ye going to do wi' me?"

"Do with thee?" cried the master-player, savagely clapping his hand upon
his poniard,--"why, I am going to do with thee just whatever I please.
Dost hear? And, hark 'e, this sort of caper doth not please me at all;
and by the whistle of the Lord High Admiral, if thou triest it on again,
thy life is not worth a rotten peascod!"

Unbuckling the rein, he tossed one end to the bandy-legged man, and
holding the other in his own hand, with Nick riding helplessly between
them, they trotted down the hill again, took their old places in the
ranks, and spattered through the shallow ford.

The bandy-legged man had pulled a dagger from beneath his coat, and held
it under his bridle-rein, shining through the horse's mane as they
dashed through the still half-sleeping town. Nick was speechless
with terror.

Beyond the town's end they turned sharply to the northeast, galloping
steadily onward for what was perhaps half an hour, though to Nick it
seemed a forever, until they came out into a great highway running
southward. "Watling street!" he heard the man behind him say, and knew
that they were in the old Roman road that stretched from London to the
north. Still they were galloping, though long strings dribbled from the
horses' mouths, and the saddle-leathers dri