out, with the discharge of a
carbine and the sound of galloping hoofs. Away down the line we heard
a ripple of shots. The first line of outposts had been reached. At the
alarm our horse charged forward with a huzza, and we followed them as
fast as our men could run. We had crossed two or three hundred yards of
moor, and could hear the blowing of the Royal bugles quite close to us,
when our horse came to a sudden halt, and our whole advance was at a
standstill.

'Sancta Maria!' cried Saxon, dashing forward with the rest of us to find
out the cause of the delay. 'We must on at any cost! A halt now will
ruin our camisado.'

'Forwards, forwards!' cried Sir Gervas and I, waving our swords.

'It is no use, gentlemen,' cried a cornet of horse, wringing his hands;
'we are undone and betrayed. There is a broad ditch without a ford in
front of us, full twenty feet across!'

'Give me room for my horse, and I shall show ye the way across!' cried
the Baronet, backing his steed. 'Now, lads, who's for a jump?'

'Nay, sir, for God's sake!' said a trooper, laying his hand upon his
bridle. 'Sergeant Sexton hath sprung in even now, and horse and man have
gone to the bottom!'

'Let us see it, then!' cried Saxon, pushing his way through the crowd
of horsemen. We followed close at his heels, until we found ourselves on
the borders of the vast trench which impeded our advance.

To this day I have never been able to make up my mind whether it was
by chance or by treachery on the part of our guides that this fosse was
overlooked until we stumbled upon it in the dark. There are some who say
that the Bussex Rhine, as it is called, is not either deep or broad,
and was, therefore, unmentioned by the moorsmen, but that the recent
constant rains had swollen it to an extent never before known. Others
say that the guides had been deceived by the fog, and taken a wrong
course, whereas, had we followed another track, we might have been able
to come upon the camp without crossing the ditch. However that may be,
it is certain that we found it stretching in front of us, broad, black,
and forbidding, full twenty feet from bank to bank, with the cap of the
ill-fated sergeant just visible in the centre as a mute warning to all
who might attempt to ford it.

'There must be a passage somewhere,' cried Saxon furiously. 'Every
moment is worth a troop of horse to them. Where is my Lord Grey? Hath
the guide met with his deserts?'

'Major Hollis hath hurle