They crossed a piece of open level, and, holding this the quickest way, jumped down the slight pitch at its farther edge. As they recovered footing, they perceived close before them in the lee of the bank two bodies lying motionless, one of which seemed that of an officer by its better clothes and of a rebel by its orange sash. It was the first officer of Essex’s army they had yet noted among the dead, and, with a sudden fear that it might be one of his own kindred, Hugh bent over the corpse. Finding, to his relief, that the face was strange to him, he was turning away, when his eyes chanced to rest upon the other body, that of a hulking common foot soldier. As he gazed he thought to see a slight tremor pass over it, so, stepping to the man as he lay on his face, he shook him by the shoulder. At the touch the fellow suddenly scrambled to his knees. “Don’t kill me, master,” he whined. “Give me quarter.” Hugh had started back a step or two and pulled out his pistol; the man was not even scratched, he perceived, but had feigned dead. Then he noted a basket-hilted sword with a leathern baldric that had been concealed beneath him as he lay, and he noted, too, that not only did the dead officer wear no sword, but his pockets had been turned inside out. “So that’s your trade, is it?” Hugh cried. “Robbing the dead of your own party, eh?” “I’ll never do so no more,” whimpered the fellow. “Don’t ’ee shoot.” The craven tone of the creature harked back to something in Hugh’s memory; he leaned a little forward and studied the man’s bearded, low-browed face, then drew back with his pistol cocked. “I remember you,” he said. “Are you ready to pay back the two shillings and sixpence you took from me on the Nottinghamshire crossroad?” “Is this the padder?” Frank struck in. “Put a bullet through him, Hugh.” “Don’t ’ee shoot me, master,” the other begged. “I did not kill ’ee then, and I might ha’.” “I am not going to shoot you,” Hugh replied, “but you can give me over that sword to pay for what you owe me. And remember, this pistol I hold now is in good order,” he added, for he half suspected the fellow was plucking up courage as he discovered it was only two lads, not a whole troop, had come upon him. So he stood back warily out of the plunderer’s reach, while Frank, who was viewing the whole proceeding happily like a holiday sport, took up the booty and passed it over to him. Hugh gathered the baldric about the sword in his left hand, a little hurriedly, for it was beginning to dawn on him that he and Frank had strayed pretty far, and where one live rebel was there might be others. Just then, over in the plain, he got sight of a straggling horseman or two, so he turned upon Frank with a quick order: “Clamber up the slope there and make for the road briskly.”