ing upon us, 'fight ye for Baal or for the
Lord? He who is not with us is against us.'

'Which is the side of Baal, most reverend sir, and which of the Lord?'
asked Sir Gervas Jerome. 'Methinks if you were to speak plain English
instead of Hebrew we might come to an understanding sooner.'

'This is no time for light words,' the minister cried, with a flush of
anger upon his face. 'If ye would keep your skins whole, tell me, are ye
for the bloody usurper James Stuart, or are ye for his most Protestant
Majesty King Monmouth?'

'What! He hath come to the title already!' exclaimed Saxon. 'Know then
that we are four unworthy vessels upon our way to offer our services to
the Protestant cause.'

'He lies, good Master Pettigrue, he lies most foully,' shouted a burly
fellow from the edge of the crowd. 'Who ever saw a good Protestant in
such a Punchinello dress as yonder? Is not Amalekite written upon his
raiment? Is he not attired as becometh the bridegroom of the harlot of
Rome? Why then should we not smite him?'

'I thank you, my worthy friend,' said Sir Gervas, whose attire had moved
this champion's wrath. 'If I were nearer I should give you some return
for the notice which you have taken of me.'

'What proof have we that ye are not in the pay of the usurper, and on
your way to oppress the faithful?' asked the Puritan divine.

'I tell you, man,' said Saxon impatiently, 'that we have travelled all
the way from Hampshire to fight against James Stuart. We will ride with
ye to Monmouth's camp, and what better proof could ye desire than that?'

'It may be that ye do but seek an opportunity of escaping from our
bondage,' the minister observed, after conferring with one or two of the
leading peasants. 'It is our opinion, therefore, that before coming
with us ye must deliver unto us your swords, pistols, and other carnal
weapons.'

'Nay, good sir, that cannot be,' our leader answered. 'A cavalier may
not with honour surrender his blade or his liberty in the manner ye
demand. Keep close to my bridle-arm, Clarke, and strike home at any
rogue who lays hands on you.'

A hum of anger rose from the crowd, and a score of sticks and
scythe-blades were raised against us, when the minister again interposed
and silenced his noisy following.

'Did I hear aright?' he asked. 'Is your name Clarke?'

'It is,' I answered.

'Your Christian name?'

'Micah.'

'Living at?'

'Havant.'

The clergyman conferred for a few moments with