The most of the troop had already ridden for Kingsford, Hugh perceived, as they came to the front of the house, but by the west door Dick and Frank, with Saxon and a trooper or two, still stayed for him. Hugh led Lois up to his two friends, a bit slowly, for the girl’s steps faltered shyly. “Dick,” he began, “this is Mistress Campion of whom I have told you. They have cast her out from Everscombe because she set me free from them yesterday, so ’tis in my mind to take her unto Tamworth.” Dick’s expressive eyebrows went up, but before Hugh had time for resentment, or even comprehension, he had swung round on the trooper who waited at Black Boy’s head: “Off to the stable with you and fetch a pillion. Frank, use your impudence well and bring out a cloak for Mistress Campion from the house. ’Tis well thought on, Hugh, for surely all the regiment is indebted to the gentlewoman who aided you to bear that message. Say, by Mistress Campion’s leave, we convey her to my cousin, Mistress Cresswell, in Worcestershire?” “Did I not tell you, Lois, that Dick was the best good fellow ever lived?” Hugh broke out. “Pshaw!” said Strangwayes. “Get to your saddle, you one-armed warrior. You’ll have all you can do to manage Bayard, so I shall entreat Mistress Campion to ride behind me.” In such order they went from Everscombe in the late afternoon, and, urging the horses a trifle, for Captain Turner and Captain Gwyeth had long since ridden forth, came into Kingsford as the sun was setting. Already the troops were falling into marching order in the road, and Strangwayes, only pausing to bid Hugh look that he did not go to sleep and pitch over his saddle-bow ere he reached Tamworth, trotted ahead to take his place in the rear of Turners men. At a word from him Frank followed at his side, but Lois, seated behind Dick, kept her face turned back to Hugh. He watched till they passed in the rear of the troop down to the bridge of the Arrow, then drew Bayard back to the little band that represented Gwyeth’s men; the troopers were all in the saddle; behind them Leveson’s squads were getting to horse, and the graveyard was deserted. The slope of the hill and the church were red in the sunset but very peaceful now; Hugh looked to the church tower and saw no flag was flying. Then he heard a voice at his elbow: “The colors, sir.” He looked down at Ridydale, stiff and soldierly, who saluted and passed him up the red and gold cornet of the troop. “Can you manage the flag, Hugh?” spoke Captain Gwyeth, getting leisurely to horse beside him. “Leave it to the corporal if your arm—” “Sure, sir, I can manage it very well indeed,” Hugh broke in, much alarmed; he braced the staff against his stirrup and, resting it in the crook of his elbow, gathered the reins into his sound hand. “Nay, none shall take it from you, Cornet Gwyeth,” the captain laughed, and turned to the trumpeter to sound the order to march forward.