or ye.'

A low sullen murmur of determined resolution rose from the peasants,
mingled with pious ejaculations and little scraps of hymn or of prayer.
They had all produced from under their smocks rustic weapons of some
sort. Ten or twelve had petronels, which, from their antique look and
rusty condition, threatened to be more dangerous to their possessors
than to the enemy. Others had sickles, scythe-blades, flails,
half-pikes, or hammers, while the remainder carried long knives and
oaken clubs. Simple as were these weapons, history has proved that in
the hands of men who are deeply stirred by religious fanaticism they are
by no means to be despised. One had but to look at the stern, set faces
of our followers, and the gleam of exultation and expectancy which shone
from their eyes, to see that they were not the men to quail, either from
superior numbers or equipment.

'By the Mass!' whispered Sir Gervas, 'it is magnificent! An hour of this
is worth a year in the Mall. The old Puritan bull is fairly at bay. Let
us see what sort of sport the bull-pups make in the baiting of him! I'll
lay five pieces to four on the chaw-bacons!'

'Nay, it's no matter for idle betting,' said I shortly, for his
light-hearted chatter annoyed me at so solemn a moment.

'Five to four on the soldiers, then!' he persisted. 'It is too good a
match not to have a stake on it one way or the other.'

'Our lives are the stake,' said I.

'Faith, I had forgot it!' he replied, still mumbling his toothpick. '"To
be or not to be?" as Will of Stratford says. Kynaston was great on the
passage. But here is the bell that rings the curtain up.'

Whilst we had been making our dispositions the troop of horse--for there
appeared to be but one--had trotted down the cross-road, and had drawn
up across the main highway. They numbered, as far as I could judge,
about ninety troopers, and it was evident from their three-cornered
hats, steel plates, red sleeves, and bandoliers, that they were dragoons
of the regular army. The main body halted a quarter of a mile from us,
while three officers rode to the front and held a short consultation,
which ended in one of them setting spurs to his horse and cantering down
in our direction. A bugler followed a few paces behind him, waving a
white kerchief and blowing an occasional blast upon his trumpet.

'Here comes an envoy,' cried Saxon, who was standing up in the waggon.
'Now, my brethren, we have neither kettle-drum nor