There is no knowing how long Dick might have lived at the Seven Thorns but for an event which happened at the beginning of April. Perhaps he would have stayed there all his life, and grown from a cowed, terrified child into a stupid, ignorant man. He had been trustful, easily led, and so deeply impressed by Master Purvis's tale that he accepted his position without a word. Truthful, kindly, very simple, he had no idea of others deceiving him to this extent. Had John Dent appeared at all in this business he might have suspected trickery, but fat, dull Master Purvis, whom he had known all his life, carried no fear to his mind. Master Purvis had heard of his danger, and had saved him. Dick had always teased and despised Master Purvis, but now he was the only creature he thought of as a friend in the wide world. It was on a gusty April day that Dick, feeding the pigs in the early morning, saw a troop of Parliamentarians gallop up to the inn door. He was about to run out to hold their horses when something in their bearing, and their haste, and the way they glanced behind them to the west, struck him. The troop did not dismount; only two soldiers swung themselves from their saddles, rushed into the inn, and returned in a moment, bringing with them Master Tomlinson, who was entreating, expostulating, and explaining all in a breath. Dick had hidden himself in the yard, but he could hear the stern voice of the Puritan commander charging the host with some falseness that had led him and his men into the midst of a force three times their size. In vain Master Tomlinson denied all knowledge; in vain he protested 'twas all a mistake, that he had fully believed the King's force to be small. Dick could not catch all that was being said as to how and when the host had given the misleading information. But he saw the soldiers bind his hands, and put him up before one of their companions. Then out dashed Mistress Joan with tears and screams for her poor husband, and the officer was a kind man and would have pity, she was sure. And they were poor folks, he must observe, and had to turn a penny how they could in these bad days. "Forward!" cried the officer. But Mistress Joan clung to his stirrup, and entreated and threatened, betraying so exact a knowledge of facts that the Puritan did not deem it safe to leave her behind. A warning cry from the rear made him look round. There was a dust-cloud on the sky-line. "Turn her apron over her head," he commanded. "Up with her!" Dick saw the dame hoisted up before a trooper, wringing her hands and filling the air with muffled wails. "Forward!" again shouted the officer, and they were off down the hill with a swirl of wind and a clatter of hoofs, and in five minutes out of sight in the Forest of Arne.