They went headlong over the low embankment and struggled blindly forward into the field. Hugh had jammed his pistol into his belt, wondering how many seconds it would take him to draw his sword clear for a final stand, when Frank reeled up against him, crying: “My ankle! I’ve wrenched it again.” With that he pitched down at Hugh’s feet, and Hugh, clapping his hand to the hilt of the sword, stood over him and faced about. Then he saw the rebel horsemen had drawn rein in the roadway and were watching them but not following, behind him he heard horses coming, and Frank, suddenly scrambling to his feet, began shouting. “King’s men! Hurrah!” Hugh turned about in time to see a little squad of eight or ten horsemen with scarlet scarfs come riding out of the twilight and pull up alongside them. There was something familiar in the broad shoulders of the leader and the gruff voice in which he began: “’Tis happy for you, gentlemen, that we—” “Corporal Ridydale, have you forgot me?” Hugh interrupted breathlessly, going up to the man’s stirrup. “Forgot you, sir?” Ridydale made answer, “Lord, no, sir. Jump up behind me. ’Tis not a healthy place hereabouts for men of our color.—Here, Rodes, take t’other young gentleman up behind you.” After delaying long enough to slip his new baldric over his shoulder, Hugh scrambled up behind Ridydale, and the little squad headed across the field toward Edgehill. How had the battle gone, Hugh asked, as soon as he had recovered breath; and Ridydale told him the Prince and Colonel Gwyeth had hunted the rebels clear beyond Kineton. “The knaves banged our troop some deal, but we had brave plundering in the town,” the corporal ended. “‘How has the day gone in the rest of the field?’ I know not; we have done our part.” “Colonel Gwyeth had no hurt?” Hugh broke in. “No thanks to him that he hasn’t, the madman!” Ridydale answered. “He would fight in his shirt, for he swore these fellows were too paltry for a gentleman to guard against. So he laid off his armor ere he rode into the fight. Now that, sir, is the temper the gentlemen of your house have ever been of, and ’tis the only fitting temper.” It looked like the beginning of their usual disagreement, so Hugh kept silent, the more willingly since he found himself tired so that even talking required exertion. He leaned rather heavily against Ridydale, and watched the field, that looked gray in the deepening twilight, slip by them, and, when he shut his eyes, still saw the field with the trampled bodies of men and writhing chargers. Then, of a sudden, their horse pulled up. “I take it we’ll rendezvous here,” he heard the corporal say. “Perchance you’ll bide with us till the colonel comes, sir?” “No,” Hugh said hurriedly, slipping down from the horse. “Thank you, Ridydale. We’d have been in a bad way but for you.”