less of the town, when a loud, clear bugle-call brought them to
a halt. In each successive regiment or squadron the signal was repeated,
so that the sound passed swiftly down the long array until it died away
in the distance. As the coil of men formed up upon the white road, with
just a tremulous shifting motion along the curved and undulating line,
its likeness to a giant serpent occurred again to my mind.

'I could fancy it a great boa,' I remarked, 'which was drawing its coils
round the town.'

'A rattlesnake, rather,' said Reuben, pointing to the guns in the rear.
'It keeps all its noise in its tail.'

'Here comes its head, if I mistake not,' quoth Saxon. 'It were best
perhaps that we stand at the side of the gate.'

As he spoke a group of gaily dressed cavaliers broke away from the main
body and rode straight for the town. Their leader was a tall, slim,
elegant young man, who sat his horse with the grace of a skilled rider,
and who was remarkable amongst those around him for the gallantry of his
bearing and the richness of his trappings. As he galloped towards the
gate a roar of welcome burst from the assembled multitude, which was
taken up and prolonged by the crowds behind, who, though unable to see
what was going forward, gathered from the shouting that the King was
approaching.

Chapter XX. Of the Muster of the Men of the West

Monmouth was at that time in his thirty-sixth year, and was remarkable
for those superficial graces which please the multitude and fit a man to
lead in a popular cause. He was young, well-spoken, witty, and skilled
in all martial and manly exercises. On his progress in the West he had
not thought it beneath him to kiss the village maidens, to offer prizes
at the rural sports, and to run races in his boots against the fleetest
of the barefooted countrymen. (Note G., Appendix) His nature was vain
and prodigal, but he excelled in that showy magnificence and careless
generosity which wins the hearts of the people. Both on the Continent
and at Bothwell Bridge, in Scotland, he had led armies with success, and
his kindness and mercy to the Covenanters after his victory had caused
him to be as much esteemed amongst the Whigs as Dalzell and Claverhouse
were hated. As he reined up his beautiful black horse at the gate of the
city, and raised his plumed montero cap to the shouting crowd, the grace
and dignity of his bearing were such as might befit the knight-errant
in a Romance who is f