The pursuers were puzzled at suddenly losing all trace of the despatch-bearer. They paused to listen, but no sound of distant horse-hoofs fell upon their ear, only somewhat further on they could hear children’s voices. Riding forward, they came into sight of an orchard in which two little girls with their skipping-ropes were playing on the daisy-flecked grass. As they skipped they sang an old May-pole song, their childish voices rising high and clear in the country quiet: Come, ye young men, come along, With your music, dance and song; Bring your lasses in your hands, For ’tis that which love commands. Then to the May-pole haste away, For ’tis now a holiday. It is the choice time of the year, For the violets now appear; Now the rose receives its birth, And pretty primrose decks the earth. Then to the May-pole haste away, For ’tis now a holiday. Suddenly they broke off, and the elder child cried out: “Look! Look, Meg. There be soldiers yonder.” “Three, four, five of them!” said the little one, counting with keen interest. “And two of them have left their horses and be coming this way,” said Nan. “See their red ribbons; they be King’s soldiers.” “Oh, Nan, I’m frightened! They said they would hang the boys and drown the girls!” cried Meg, clinging to her sister. “That was because the children of Broxash sang If you offer to plunder, or take our cattle, Be assured we will bid you battle.’” said Nan, reassuringly. “We were only singing the May-pole song.” Nevertheless her eyes grew large with fright as the soldier approached. “Here, you brats!” he shouted. “Have you seen a Puritan officer gallop by this way?” “No, we have been skipping,” she replied, sturdily. “A wounded man on a bay horse.” “We have not seen him--he hath not been here,” said Nan. “Curse him! What a dance he hath led us! How a man that’s been twice hit can ride across country that fashion, beats me. The devil must be in him. Come, mate, we must to horse again, and push on--the plaguey fellow shan’t give us the slip.” They hastened back to rejoin their comrades, and Nan looked wistfully after them. “I hope they won’t find him,” she said, shivering. “If they do they’ll kill him.” “I’m glad we’re not men,” said Meg, picking up her skipping-rope. “We shall never have to kill folk.”