ave had good
reason for spurring fast. As we are weary, we will beg you to let us
stow ourselves away in a corner of your room and go to sleep, asking you
to call us should any strangers come near the hut."

"You are welcome to do that, seeing we have no beds to offer you except
Mark's, and he might grumble should he find himself turned out of his."

"We would not do that on any account. Do let us lie down without
delay," said Stephen. "See, my brother's head is already nodding over
the table."

They had brought in their cloaks, unstrapped from their saddles, and
rolling themselves up in them, with some lumps of wood for pillows, they
were asleep almost as soon as they had stretched themselves on the
ground.

The old man and his wife sat talking in low voices for some time, every
now and then glancing at their guests, till the door opened, and the son
they had spoken of entered the room. He was a big, broad-shouldered,
black-bearded man.

"Whom have we here?" he asked, turning his eyes towards the sleeping
fugitives.

"That is more than I can tell you, Mark," answered his father. "They
say they came from the south, and, as far as I can make out, they are
pushing on to Bristol. They seem to have ridden hard, and are dead
beat."

"That may or may not be," said Mark. "I heard say yesterday a good many
men have been deserting from the Duke of Monmouth's army. That is not
to be wondered at, seeing that the king's forces are rapidly gathering
around him; wiser if they had never joined. However, that is no
business of ours."

"So I say, son Mark," said the old man. "You are a wise fellow not to
run your head into danger, let the world wag as it lists; all we have to
do is to catch fish and find a market for them. Have you had a good
haul?"

"Pretty fair; and I hope the packman will be here ere long to carry them
to Bridgewater, where they say the Duke of Monmouth and his men are
encamped. I will now turn in, father, to be ready to send off the fish
as soon as the packman comes."

Mark accordingly turned into his bunk in a little recess, for it could
not be called a room, in the hut, and was soon snoring away, while his
father sat up by the fire in a rough arm-chair, ready, apparently, to
awaken him as soon as the packman should arrive. Stephen and Andrew
were so thoroughly done up that they slept on the whole night through,
undisturbed by voices or any other noise; indeed, had a gun been fired
over