could see soldiers riding this way to meet the regiment going along the
road. There'll be a fight not far from here, I'll wager, and--Hark at
that!"

"I don't hear anything, father."

"But I do. Horses galloping. Now can you hear?"

There was a faint distant sound, gradually increasing--a sound which
soon developed into the rapid beat of horses' hoofs, and the girl
climbed to the window to look out again.

"Yes, father, I can see them," she cried.

"Well, well, what is it? the king's regiment?"

"Yes, father, coming galloping back along the road, and--yes, I can see
them too, a great regiment of the other side galloping after them, and
you can see more soldiers off on the moor."

"Coming this way?"

"No; going right off behind the wood."

"To cut them off," cried the landlord. "It's some one who knows the
country, and if the king's regiment keeps to the road those last will
get before them; they'll be between two parties of the rebels, and
they'll be cut to pieces."

"Hooray!" came from the straw where Samson lay, and the landlord turned
upon him angrily, but there was too much that was exciting outside to
let him find words of reproof.

The clatter of hoofs and jingle of sword against stirrup increased, and
Fred lay with his eyes glittering, panting heavily as, full of
excitement, he listened to the sounds of hurried flight.

Then came another trumpet blast, sounding distant, and a rushing sound
as of a coming storm, ever increasing in power.

Then another blast, and another, both sounding farther away, and as the
wounded lad lay there, he pictured to himself the advance of two more
regiments of the Parliamentary cavalry rapidly coming on in pursuit, his
mental pictures being endorsed by the words of the landlord's daughter,
as she forced her head out of the little opening to watch the retreat
and pursuit, turning from time to time to speak to her father in answer
to some eager question.

"Are they keeping to the road, Polly? Quick, my girl? Why don't you
speak?"

"Yes, father; they are keeping to the road."

"Can't you tell 'em to turn off across the moor?"

"No, father; they are too far away."

"Shout to them."

"It's of no use, father. One, two, three rebel regiments are coming
along at full gallop."

"All on the road?"

"No; one on the road, the others across the moor."

"The poor fellows will be cut all to pieces. Can nothing be done?
Here, Polly, come down, and let me look.