It was dark ere I set out homewards, and on the summit of the hill I stopped to look across the coombe, where flickered the innumerable wood fires of the iron smelters’ forges. It reminded me strangely of that eventful day, but a few weeks past, when I journeyed over the selfsame road with my father, and instinctively I breathed a prayer for vengeance against his foul murderer. Suddenly the distant thud of horses’ hoofs smote upon my ear, and before I reached the foot of the hill, where stands the "Flying Bull", I perceived a cavalcade rapidly approaching. As I drew to the side of the highway to watch them pass, I could see in the starlight that there was a body of horse, some dozen at least, surrounding a carriage. The horsemen were accoutred in breast- and back-plates and steel helmets, and from their sour visages I knew them to be Roundheads. Inside the carriage a candlelamp burned, throwing a dim light on the occupants; and, brief as was my glimpse, I saw that they were lavishly attired, and wore lovelocks under their plumed beaver hats. Whether they journeyed as prisoners I could not tell, though from the careless jovial expression of their faces it seemed otherwise; but before I could remark much else the party had galloped past, and were well on their way along this southern highway towards Portsmouth. When I reached my home I at once retired for the night, and was soon dreaming of horsemen and chariots till the rays of the morning sun, thrown athwart my bed, awoke me. In my eagerness to start I could scarcely be persuaded to eat anything. In vain did Mistress Heatherington coax me--my excitement was too great. At length the two-horsed wain belonging to Farmer Hill drew up outside our house. By this conveyance I was to be taken to Petersfield, there to proceed by a chapman’s cart that journeyed thrice weekly betwixt that town and Portsmouth. My packages and boxes were lifted into the wagon. I climbed up beside the driver, and with many a handwave my old home was left behind me, and a new world lay before me. I was now fourteen years of age, and for a country-bred lad I flattered myself that I was no fool. Tall for my age, broad-shouldered and supple-limbed, I possessed an unusual amount of strength, and could bear fatigue in a manner that could only be accounted for by the fact that I had led an active outdoor life. Slowly the wagon ascended the steep incline of Rake Hill. The summit gained, there was time for a parting glance across the coombe ere the four-mile stretch of downhill road commenced. At first I talked excitedly with the driver, a sour-faced, wizened man, whose short jerky answers, spoken in broadest Sussex, did not encourage conversation; so presently I dropped all attempt at talking, and took note of the various places and persons we met on the road. At Sheet Bridge we were stopped by a toll-gate, the driver exchanging a few angry words with the villainous-looking man who held the gate.