Soon round a distant bending of the road a steel-clad horseman shot to view, a very Jehu of a fellow, riding furiously. Who could it be that thus betimes wore out good horse-flesh, and what might be the nature of his breakneck business? A Monmouth man, perhaps! I knew not--but, as things stood, it seemed to me to be prepared for anything was everything. Therefore I drew a pistol from my saddle, and, having cocked it, sat there ready to be friend or foe. On, with loose reins and head bent low, the horseman rushed towards us, and judging by his speed would certainly have passed me by unnoticed; but just as he came close, Kitty must needs prick up her ears and give a loud, shrill neigh. At that the rider pulled his lathered steed up with a suddenness that wellnigh shot him from the saddle, and there, red-faced, open-mouthed and panting, sat John Coram, staring at me like a man bedaft. "Th--h--ank H--ea--ven!" he gasped. "Yes, truly, for you might have broke your neck by pulling up thus sharply," I replied, and could not keep from smiling. "Nay--friend--’tis naught--to--jest upon," quoth he severely. "Faith!--but--I--I fairly boil within." "Then pause and rest awhile," said I. "I must," quoth he. Unbuckling his head-piece he hung it on his arm, and verily his breath roared from him like a blacksmith’s forge. Thus bared, and with the sunlight shining on his great bald pate, he looked so fat and peaceful--so unwarlike--that I was sorely put to it to save myself from laughing. "Friend," said he at last, "I count the whinnying of that mare of thine a mercy; but for it I might well have passed thee by." "True," I agreed; "but, say, what brings you after me in such a headlong fashion?" John Coram fastened on his head-piece with all the care of some old dame a-tying on her cap, looked up and down the lane, then drawing closer, said: "Because thou art in peril, friend." "Ah! and from whom?" I asked, stroking my mare’s neck carelessly, for indeed I had got used to peril. Again John Coram glanced about him, this time taking in the trees as well, as though they might hold danger; then he drew still closer, and, in a low voice, answered: "Israel Stark!" At that I started somewhat, for, as you are aware, he named no ordinary open foe, but rather one who lurked in secret places privily to murder. Therefore I paused a moment, looking hard into the steel-framed face before me ere I murmured: "Ah! so Tubal Ammon is abroad, eh?" "Yea, and that somewhere on this very road," replied John Coram in a fearful whisper. ’Twas now my turn to glance around and scan the trees, especially a thick-leaved oak just opposite. "How know you this?" I asked at last. "Why, in this fashion," answered Coram. "As I stood on guard last night a mile or so from here, I heard sly, slinking footsteps coming from the shadow of a wood. ’Who goes there?’ I cried, and someone gave the password of the night."