But long before reaching it they got information which made stoppage there unnecessary, as also further call on the ex-deer-stealer's skill as a tracker--for the time. Given by a man mounted on a hotel hack, who, coming on at a clattering gallop, met them in the teeth. His cry "For the Parliament?" without being challenged, proclaimed him a friend. And he was; the innkeeper of Mitcheldean, recognised on the instant by Sir Richard and Rob Wilde. His coming up caused a halt; for his business was with Colonel Walwyn-- an errand quickly told. "Prince Rupert and two hundred horse, with prisoners, have passed through Mitcheldean!" Half a dozen questions rapidly put, and promptly answered, elicited all the circumstances--the time, the direction taken, everything the patriotic Boniface could tell. They had come down the Plump Hill, and gone off by Abenhall--for Newnham or Westbury; or they might be making for Lydney. Down the Plump Hill! That accounted for their not being met. And the time--so near meeting, yet missing them! All the way to Hollymead and back for nothing! But lamenting the lost hours would not recover them. They must be made good by greater speed; and, without wasting another word, the spur was buried deeper, and faster rode the Foresters. Rode with a will; few of them whose heart was not in the pursuit. They were on the slot of a hated foe, against whom many had private cause of quarrel and vengeance. Prince Rupert, for the past twelve months, had been harrying the Forest district, making their homes desolate; his licentious soldiers abusing their wives, sisters, and daughters--no wonder they wanted to come up with him! At mad speed they went dashing around Ruardean Hill, down into the vale of Drybrook; then up by the Wilderness, and down again to Mitcheldean; once more startling the townspeople from their slumbers, and filling them with fresh alarm; soon over on seeing it was the green-coats. Only a glimpse of them was got, as they galloped on through; staying not a moment, never drawing bridle till they came to the forking of the roads by Abenhall--the right for Littledean, Newham, and Lydney; the left to Westbury. Then only for an instant, while Rob Wilde swung his stalwart form out of the saddle, and made inspection of the tracks. For the moon was once more clouded, and he could not make them out, without dismounting. As before, brief time it took him; but a few seconds till he was back on his horse, saying, as he slung himself up,-- "They're gone Westbury ways, Colonel." And Westbury ways went the pursuers, reins loose and spurs plied afresh, with no thought of halting again, but a hope there would be no need for it, till at arm's length with the detested enemy.