The next night the troops were ordered into the Bradford Valley, and a strong position was taken up on Claverton Down, for scouts had brought word that the Royalists meant to attempt Bath from that quarter. Some days passed before Gabriel found any one to whom he could entrust the letter, but at last Major Locke’s servant Tobias, who was carrying a packet to Mistress Helena at Gloucester, consented to take charge of it. Tobias, however, though thoroughly honest, was not blessed with brains. Thinking to save himself, he made what he fondly hoped was a short cut across the down, instead of availing himself of the sheltered valley. To his utter dismay, he came across a Royalist officer and a couple of scouts who were reconnoitering to see whether it would be possible after all to capture the city from the Bradford Valley, and while Hopton’s men were making a vigorous attack on the position at Claverton, poor Tobias found that his venture was like to cost him his life. The scouts seized him and one glance at the face of the officer told him that his last hour was at hand. “You come from Waller’s camp,” said Colonel Norton, sharply. “Don’t deny it, I can read it in your craven face. What strength has he there?” Tobias told the number of the troops. “What are you doing here?” “I was but on an errand,” faltered the poor fellow. “I am nought but a servant, sir.” “Whose servant?” “Major Locke’s, sir,” said Tobias, sealing his own doom by the words. Norton chuckled gleefully. “Ha! that’s good hearing. You are carrying his letters no doubt. Here string him up, men, and we’ll turn out his pockets afterwards, and save him the discomfort of a struggle. These Puritans have such consciences, he would doubtless scruple to part with his trust.” “Sir, sir,” pleaded poor Tobias. “They can be naught to you--they be no despatches--they be but private letters, and both of them only to ladies, sir.” At this, Norton burst into a roar of laughter. The two scouts, hating both the work and the officer in command, took advantage of his convulsions of merriment, to loose the prisoner. “Chuck the despatches and run,” whispered one of them. And Tobias needed no second bidding.