As we rode along the river side into Hook village the dawn came, grey and misty. There was a bank of white fog over the Ouse, which was there a wide and swift river, mightily swollen at that moment by the recent rains. Down at the ferry the air was cold and thin, and I saw Alison shiver as we sat our horses by the water’s edge. I looked round me at the dull, flat landscape, and the wintry river at our feet, and felt a sense of coming trouble. “I have led thee into perilous doings, sweetheart,” says I, laying my hand on hers. But she looked at me with the rarest smile, and I knew then that because of her love for me she was willing to face whatever might come. Our friend the officer, while we waited at the ferry for the troop that was to join him, amused himself by drawing up his men in order of battle and putting them through various movements. I think he designed these things in order to draw our attention to his own person and importance, for he was in sooth a perfect coxcomb, and seemed to delight in showing off his airs and graces. So concerned were we with our own thoughts, however, that we perceived little of what went on immediately before us. Alison and I sat apart, conversing now and then. Merciful Wiggleskirk walked his horse up and down the road in a fashion that clearly proved his uneasiness. And presently, after an excursion to the end of the turn he came back to my side, and drawing rein as if naught had happened, leaned over and spoke to me in a low voice. “Master,” says he, “we are pursued.” “Pursued?” says I. “What makes you think that?” “I have just been to the top of the road,” says he, “and caught sight of a troop of horse coming along under the woods a mile off. In another minute or so you’ll hear the sound of their horses’ feet,” he says, nodding his head towards the highway. “Why, man,” says I, “’tis the troop of horse that this officer is now waiting for that you have seen. He expects them to join him here every moment.” “No,” says he, “for these are Roundheads--I can tell the difference ’twixt Roundheads and Cavaliers at three miles. We are pursued, master, as I feared we should be, and if Anthony Dacre has a hand in it we shall have to fight. And the question is,” he says, with a glance at Alison, “what is to be done with madam?” “Have no fear on that point,” says I. “Fetch the officer to us, Merciful, and let us tell him our fears. If we are pursued we may as well ask our new friends to defend us.” While he rode off I turned to Alison and told her our fears. “I doubt,” says I, “that Anthony has escaped the Stirks and raised a hue-and-cry after us.” “We will not be separated, Dick,” says she. “If it comes to the worst give me a pistol and they shall see that I can use it. Only promise to let us keep together,” she says, imploringly.