It was more bewilderment, as the men seemingly so merry drew near, invisible through the pitchlike darkness. At least a hundred there must be, as told by the pattering of their horses' hoofs on the firm causeway. Kyrle's scouting party had gone out not half this number, yet there was Kyrle himself, talking and laughing the loudest. Many of the guard--officers and soldiers--knew his voice well, and could not be mistaken about it. What then meant the sooner return of the cornet, without his standard, and with a tale of disaster? Had he retreated from a conflict still undecided, afterwards ending in favour of the Royalist forces? It might be so. By this the approaching party had got nearly up to the gate, in front of which the causeway showed a wide gap, and through it, far below, the flooded river surging angrily on. The officer in command of the guard was about to call out, "Who comes?" when anticipated by a hail from the opposite side, pronounced in tone of demand,--"Hoi over there! Let the drawbridge down!" "For whom?" "Kyrle and party. We've taken prisoners threescore Roundheads, and sent as many more to kingdom come. Be quick, and let us in. We're soaking wet, and hungry as wolves!" "But, Colonel Kyrle," doubtingly objected the officer, "your cornet has just passed in, with the report that you and your party were made prisoners! How is it--" "Oh, he's got back, has he?" interrupted the ready Kyrle, though for an instant non-plussed. "The coward! And double scoundrel, telling such a tale to screen himself! Why, he dropped his standard at sight of the enemy, and skulked off before we had come to blows! Ah! I'll make short work of it with him." While he was speaking there came a flash of lightning more vivid than any that had late preceded, bright enough and sufficiently prolonged for the soldiers on guard to see those on the other side of the chasm throughout the whole extended line. In front some half-score files of Kyrle's Light Horse, whose uniform was well-known, with a like number in the rear, and between, with heads drooped, and looking dejected, the prisoners he had spoken of. The spectacle seemed to prove his words true. Under the circumstances who could think them false? Who suspect him of treason? Not the officer in command of that guard, anyhow; who, without further hesitation or parley, gave orders for the lowering of the bridge. Down it went, and over it rode a hundred and odd men, counting the supposed Royalists and their unarmed prisoners. But soon as inside the gate, all seemed to be armed, prisoners as well as escort, the former suddenly bristling with weapons, which they had drawn from under their doublets to the cry, "For God and Parliament!" The opposing shout, "For God and the King?" was stifled almost soon as raised, the bridge guard being instantly overpowered, many of them cut down, and killed outright.