'He was quite pale, and I thought he was dead. So I was about to leave him when he opened his eyes. "What cheer, Dad?" He said nothing; so I felt his pulse and found him breathing. "But what cheer, Dad?" I asked him again. "Get up if thou canst, and come with me." He looked as if he understood me not, and he shut his eyes again. Now, when you run away, the best thing is to run as fast and to run as far as you can. Yet I could not run with Dad lying in the road half dead. So while I tried to think what to do, because the murdering Dragoons were cutting us down in all directions, there came galloping past a pony harnessed to a kind of go-cart, where, I suppose, there had been a barrel or two of cider for the soldiers. The creature was mad with the noise of the guns, and I had much ado to catch him and hold the reins while I lifted Dad into the cart. When I had done that, I ran by the side of the horse and drove him off the road across the moor, which was rough going, but for dear life one must endure much, to North Marton, where I struck the road to Taunton, and brought him safe, so far.' 'Take me to him, Barnaby,' said my mother. 'Take me to him.' 'Why, mother,' he said kindly, 'I know not if 'tis wise. For, look you--if they catch us, me they will hang or shoot, though Dad they may let go, for he is sped already--and for a tender heart like thine 'twould be a piteous sight to see thy son hanging from a branch with a tight rope round his neck and thy husband dead on a hand-cart.' 'Barnaby, take me to him!--take me to him!' 'Oh! Is it true? Is it true? Oh! Captain Barnaby, is it really true? Then, why are the bells a-ringing?' Clash! Clash! Clash! The bells rang out louder and louder. One would have thought the whole town was rejoicing. Yet there were a thousand lads in the army belonging to Taunton town alone, and I know not how many ever came home again. 'They are ringing,' said Barnaby, 'because King Monmouth's army is scattered and the rebellion is all over. Well: we have had our chance and we are undone. Now must we sing small again. Madam,' he said earnestly, addressing Susan, 'if I remember right, they were your hands that carried the naked sword and the Bible?' 'Sir, they were my hands. I am proud of that day.' 'And they were your scholars who worked the flags and gave them to the Duke that day when you walked in a procession?' 'They were my scholars,' she said proudly. 'Then, Madam, seeing that we have, if all reports be true, a damned unforgiving kind of King, my advice to you is to follow my example and run. Hoist all sail, Madam, and fly to some port--any port. Fly false colours. When hanging, flogging, branding, and the like amusements set in, I think they will remember the Maids of Taunton. That is my advice, Madam.'