The clattering of hoofs had brought faces to every window, and figures into every door; for this had been heard long before the two horsemen made their appearance. And now, as these came to a halt in front of the inn, their horses breathing hard, all eyes were bent upon them with inquiring curiosity. "Wind your horn, Hubert!" commanded the knight, in an undertone, without waiting for any one to come up to them. A command which Hubert instantly obeyed by drawing a small cornet from under his doublet, clapping it to his lips, and sounding the "Assembly." He had been troop-trumpeter in "the army that swore so terribly in Flanders," and so understood the cavalry calls. No cavalry, however, answered this one, nor soldiers of any arm; though it was answered by what looked the right material for making soldiers. Before the cornet's notes had ceased reverberating from the tower of the church, and the walls of the old castle--then in ruins--men could be seen issuing from the doors of the nearer houses, others hastening along the lanes from those more remote, all making for the spot where the horsemen were halted. In a few seconds nearly twenty had gathered, up and grouped around the horses; the expression on their faces showing that they understood the signal in a general way, but not the reason for its having been sounded to summon them just then. All looked inquiry, one putting it in the form of speech,-- "What belt, Sir Richard?" He who interrogated was a man of gigantic size, inches taller than any of the others. But something more than his superior stature privileged him to be first spokesman, as could be deduced from Sir Richard's answer. "A troop coming from Lydney, Rob. They're through Drybrook by this, making for Hollymead. You and your friends will, no doubt, be there, too, curious to see how the soldiers behave themselves?" "We'll be there, sure, Sir Richard. Rob Wilde for one, an' belikes a good many more." "So well," rejoined the knight, with a satisfied look. Then leaning over on his saddle he whispered some words of a confidential character into the ear of the deer-stealer. After which, setting himself straight in the stirrups, he again set his horse into a gallop, and rode out of the village as rapidly as he had entered it. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "I hear they're coming, Sir Richard?" "They are, Mr Powell. By all signs, it's the party you've been expecting. Indeed, there can be no doubt about its being Wintour's troop. One of the officers at its head we made out to be Master Trevor's cousin, as you've heard, I suppose?" "Oh, yes. And of their purpose there can be as little doubt--to levy for that 3,000 pounds the King facetiously terms _loan_. A downright robbery, I call it." "I too." "What ought I to do, Sir Richard? I have the money in the house, and suppose I must give it to them. But if you say the word, I'll refuse."