While crossing the common, they descried a patrol of horse apparently proceeding in the direction of White Ladies or Boscobel, but they easily avoided them, and quitting the common, they soon afterwards mounted a steep hill, on the other side of which was a brook that turned a water-mill. As they drew near the mill, the sound of voices brought them to a halt. The hour being now late, it was singular that any persons should be astir, and Trusty Dick, naturally alarmed by the circumstance, at first thought of turning back. But to do so would have taken him and his companion considerably out of their course, and he therefore hesitated. "This is Evelith Mill," he observed in a low voice to Charles, "Roger Bushell, the miller, is a cross-grained fellow, and I think a Roundhead, so I shouldn't like to trust him." "'Tis safer not," replied the king. "How far are we from Madeley?" "About two miles," replied Dick. "But if we were obliged to turn back it will add another mile, at least, to the distance." "Then let us go on," said the king. So they waited quietly for a few minutes, when the light disappeared, and the voices became hushed. "Roger Bushell has gone to bed at last," observed Charles. "We may proceed on our way." So they marched on without fear. But the king was wrong, in his supposition, for as they passed the mill a gruff voice called out, "Who goes there?" "'Tis the miller himself," whispered Dick. "Well, answer him," said Charles. Again the challenge was repeated, and more authoritatively than before, "Who are you? Speak!" "Friends," replied Dick." "I know you not," cried the sturdy miller. "If you be friends, stand and give an account of yourselves, or sure as I'm an honest man, and you are a couple of rogues, I'll knock you down." And he brandished a stout staff as he spoke. "What shall we do?" asked Charles. "Beat a retreat," replied Dick. "It won't do to be stopped here." And as the miller rushed forth to seize them they hurried off; and ascended another hill, never stopping till they were quite out of breath. "This is a most disgraceful retreat, I must say, Dick," observed Charles. "I should like to have knocked the dust out of Roger Bushell's jerkin," rejoined Dick. "But I am certain he has got some rebels with him, or he would not have dared to act thus." CHAPTER VIII. HOW THE KING WAS RECEIVED BY MR. FRANCIS WOOLFE AT MADELEY COURT.