He followed Harry into the water. Side by side they raced on, dodging the weeds, scrambling over occasional rocks, slipping on the chalky bottom, making at top speed for the bridge. As they approached this they went more slowly, to avoid being heard. Fortunately, at the point where the road crossed the stream there was a line of rocks, over which the water plunged with a rustle and clatter, drowning the sound of their footsteps. They had to stoop low to avoid the moss-grown masonry of the arch; as they emerged on the farther side they heard a muffled exclamation from one of the horsemen, and climbing the steep face of the tree-covered slope towards the wall they heard a shot, then another, mingled with shouts and the dull thuds of horses’ hoofs on the turf-covered road. On the way Harry had explained his plan in panting whispers. Running along now under cover of the wall, they came opposite to the scene of the ambush. "Now, Sherry, do your best," said Harry, as he prepared to mount the wall. Instantly a new clamour was added to the uproar in the road. "This way!" "Shoot ’em!" "Lash the noddy peaks!" "Pinch their thropples!" "Quoit ’em down!" "Haick! haick!" By this time Harry was on the wall, by favour of Sherebiah’s strong arm. A slug whizzed past his head and sank with a thud into the trunk of a tree just behind; next moment the horse-pistol from which it had been discharged followed the shot, the butt grazing Harry’s brow. There was no time to take in the details of the scene. Harry made a spring for the masked horseman who had fired at him, two yards from the wall; but the fellow, alarmed by the various shouts and the sudden appearance of Sherebiah at Harry’s side, dug the spurs into his steed’s flanks and galloped off down the road, over the bridge, and out of sight. One of his companions lay motionless on the road; the others had ridden away at the first alarm from the wall. Harry mopped his brow and looked about him. Lord Godolphin stood upright in the carriage, his lips grimly set, a smoking pistol in his hand. His son was on foot with drawn sword; a postilion was crawling out of the ditch all bemired, pale and trembling. "Odzooks!" cried my lord, "a welcome diversion!" [Illustration: Harry makes a Diversion] He was perfectly cool and collected, though his hat was off and his wig awry. "A thousand thanks, my men. Whew! ’twas in the nick of time. Where are the rest of you?" "There are no more, my lord," said Harry, lifting his cap. "No more! But the shouts, then?—I heard a dozen shouting, at least. Are the rest on the other side of the wall?" "All on this side, my lord," said Harry with a smile. "Here is the mob." He indicated Sherebiah, who touched his cap and bobbed to his lordship. Godolphin stared, then chuckled and guffawed.