With a glance of lightning he saw that at least a dozen more were hurrying up, and that the only chance left was to deal suddenly with the two, who were now in a fair way to pull the clothier off his horse, and having despatched them, to gallop on with all speed. Without loss of a moment, therefore, he drew his sword and spurred forward. One of honest Jekin's assailants instantly faced about, and, with his pike rested on his foot, steadfastly opposed the cavalier. However, he was not so dexterous in the use of his weapon that Sir Osborne could not by rapidly wheeling his horse obtain a side view of the pike, when by one sweeping blow of his long-sword he cleft it in twain. One moment more and the unhappy pikeman's head and shoulders would have parted company, for an arm of iron was swaying the edge of the weapon rapidly towards his neck, when suddenly a powerful man sprang upon the knight's horse behind, and pinioned his arms with a force which, though it did not entirely disable him, saved the life of his antagonist. Using a strong effort, Sir Osborne so far disengaged his arms as to throw back the pommel of his sword into the chest of this new adversary, who in a moment was rolling in the dust; but as he fell, another sprang up again behind the knight, and once more embarrassed his arms: others seized the horse's bridle, and others pressed upon him on every side. Still Sir Osborne resisted, but it was in vain. A cord was passed through his arms, and gradually tightened behind, in spite of his struggling, where, being tied, it rendered all further efforts useless. Hitherto not a word had been spoken by either party. It seemed as if, by mutual understanding, the attacking and the attacked had forborne any conversation upon a subject which they knew could not be decided by words. At length, however, when they had pulled Sir Osborne Maurice off his horse, and placed him by the side of Jekin Groby, who had now long been in the same situation, the tallest of the party, evidently no other than the agreeable gentleman who had watched them along the road with such peculiar care, and whom we shall continue to call Longpole, advanced, holding his side, which was still suffering from the pommel of Sir Osborne's sword; and after regarding them both, he addressed himself to the knight, with much less asperity than might have been expected from the resistance he had met with. "Thou hit'st damned hard!" said he; "and I doubt thou hast broken one of my ribs with thy back-heave. Howsoever, I know not which of you is which, now I've got you. Faith, they should have described me the men, not the horses; both the horses are alike." "Is your wish to rob us or not?" said Sir Osborne; "because in robbing us both you are sure to rob the right. Only leave us our horses, and let us go; for to cut our throats will serve you but little."