But ere I could answer, the officer comes riding up with Merciful at his heels. I lost no time in telling him our fears. “Sir,” says I, “you have been so kind to us that I scarce like to trouble you with more of our misfortunes, but we are like to be in a sore plight. The fact is that I and my wife--and ’twas but yesterday that we were married--are closely pursued by a troop of Roundheads from Fairfax’s camp at Pomfret, and my man has just sighted them along the road there. You can even now hear their horses’ feet.” “Faith,” says he, “I do hear something of that sort, but I think ’tis the troop that I am to meet here.” “No, master,” says Merciful, “they are Roundheads--I observed their headgear narrowly.” “Then we are in for another fight!” cries the officer, rubbing his hands. “Have no fear, sir--do you and your lady sit apart, and you shall see as pretty a bit of war-play as you could wish for. Hold--I have it! Do you conduct madam, sir, into yonder house, and let your man stable your beasts at the rear. I promise you we will soon settle these crop-eared rogues, and be ready to escort you onwards within the half-hour. Hah!--now I hear them plainly--suffer me to get my men in order.” Now, I should dearly have liked to draw my sword, and had a share in the coming fight, but the officer’s advice seemed good, and in a trice all three of us had ridden round to the rear of the house overlooking the ferry, and were off our horses. While Merciful hurried them into the barn, Alison and I made for the house. There was no person to be seen within but an old woman, who scuttled away at the mere sight of us. And that being no time for ceremony we made our way to an upper chamber, whose windows looked out upon the street, and from behind the curtains gazed at the progress of events below. From our point of vantage we could see along the highway by which we had ridden from Snaith. Almost immediately before us it made a sudden turn, where it dipped towards the ferry, and it was in this turn, hidden by a tall farmstead that the Royalist captain had drawn up his men along the roadside. I saw his plan on the instant: it was to let the advancing troop sweep by, and then to hem them in between the high ground and the river bank. The Roundheads came on at a gallop, evidently unconscious of the fact that the ferry lay close before them. They rode in a close-packed body, some thirty in number, and at their head as they swung round the bend, I saw the evil face of Anthony Dacre, whose eyes were like those of a hound that scents its prey.