'Who are you?' asked one, who seemed to be a Sergeant over them. 'Why are you in hiding?' Then a thought struck me. I know not if I was wise or foolish. 'Sir,' I replied, 'my father, it is true, was with the Duke of Monmouth. But he was wounded, and now lies dead in this hut. You will suffer us to bury our dead in peace.' 'Dead is he? That will we soon see.' So saying, he entered the hut and looked at the prostrate form. He lifted one hand and let it drop. It fell like the hand of one who is recently dead. He bent over the body and laid his hand upon the forehead. It was cold as death. The lips were pale as wax, and the cheeks were white. He opened an eye: there was no expression of light in it. 'Humph!' he said; 'he seems dead. How did he come here?' 'My mother and I drove him here for safety in yonder cart. The pony hath run away.' 'That may be so; that may be so. He is dressed in a cassock: what is his name?' 'He was Dr. Comfort Eykin, an ejected minister and preacher in the Duke's army.' 'A prize, if he had been alive!' Then a sudden suspicion seized him. He had in his hand a drawn sword. He pointed it at the breast of the dead man. 'If he be truly dead,' he said, 'another wound will do him no harm. Wherefore'--he made as if he would drive the sword through my father's breast, and my mother shrieked and threw herself across the body. 'So!' he said, with a horrid grin, 'I find that he is not dead, but only wounded. My lads, here is one of Monmouth's preachers; but he is sore wounded.' 'Oh!' I cried, 'for the love of God suffer him to die in peace!' 'Ay, ay, he shall die in peace, I promise you so much. Meanwhile, Madam, we will take better care of him in Ilminster Jail than you can do here. The air is raw upon these hills.' The fellow had a glib tongue and a mocking manner. 'You have none of the comforts which a wounded man requires. They are all to be found in Ilminster prison, whither we shall carry him. There will he have nothing to think about, with everything found for him. Madam, your father will be well bestowed with us.' At that moment I heard the footsteps of Barnaby crunching among the brushwood. 'Fly! Barnaby, fly!' I shrieked. 'The enemy is upon us!' He did not fly. He came running. He rushed upon the soldiers, and hurled this man one way and that man another, swinging his long arms like a pair of cudgels. Had he had a cudgel I believe he would have sent them all flying. But he had nothing except his arms and his fists; and in a minute or two the soldiers had surrounded him, each with a bayonet pointed, and such a look in every man's eye as meant murder had Barnaby moved. 'Surrender!' said the Sergeant. Barnaby looked around leisurely. 'Well,' he said, 'I suppose I must. As for my name, it is Barnaby Eykin; and, for my rank, I was Captain in the Green Regiment of the Duke's valiant army.'