e sentry, whom I had passed
but a little while before. He was bleeding from a broken wound on his
pretty hard Saxon skull. He was not badly hurt, for he was swearing
lustily; but he had been stunned just long enough for my pirate man to
strip him. He was dressed now in a pair of leather gaiters, all the rest
of his things had been taken, the pistol with them, I saw all this at
a glance, as I charged in among them. I took it all in, guessing in one
swift gleam of comprehension, exactly what had happened there, as my
pirate made his rush for freedom. There was no time to ask if my guess
were right or not.

"Out of my way," I shouted, shoving my pistol towards the nearest of the
group. "Out of my way, or I shall fire." They made way for me. I charged
down hill by the way I had come. Some one cried "Stop en." Another
shouted "Shoot en, maister." There came a great bang of a gun over my
head. But I was going down hill like a rabbit, into the gorse, into the
bracken, into the close cover of the heath. Glancing back, I saw a dozen
excited people rushing down the rampart after me. Some flung stones;
some ran to catch horses to chase me. But I had the start of them. I was
down the hill, over the hedge, in the lane, in no time. There, a hundred
yards away, I saw my friends the troopers leading my cob. I shouted to
them. They heard me. They came up to me at a gallop. In ten seconds more
we were sailing away together.

"You been getting into scrapes, master," said one of the troopers. "You
doan't want to meddle with the folk in these parts."

"No," said the other, with a touch of insolence in his voice. "So your
master may find, one of these fine days." Being mindful of the Duke's
honour, I told the man to mind his own business, which he said he meant
to do, without asking my opinion. After that we rode on together a
little heated, till we were out of sight of the combe, where I had had
such a startling adventure.

After another hour of riding, we pulled up at the garden gate of an old
grey handsome house which stood at some distance from the road. I asked
one of the troopers who lived in this house. He said that it was an old
Abbey, which belonged to Squire; but that we were to leave word there
of the Duke's movements, "for Squire be very 'tached to the Protestants;
besides he'll give us a breakfast. Sure to." We left our horses at the
gate while we walked up to the house. A pretty girl, who seemed to know
one of the men, told