"And now I must be riding back again ere I be missed," said he. "Besides, there is this horse which I have borrowed----" "Or stolen, which?" I asked maliciously. "Nay, friend, you said that sorry business was now clean forgiven and forgotten." "And so it is," I answered laughing. "But, say, before you go, hast any news for me from Lyme?" "Aye, plenty. Old Dare was slain last night by Fletcher of Saltoun. A pretty brawl, ’tis said, about a horse. And Fletcher hath been sent a prisoner to the ship. Thus lose we two good men at once. A grievous loss, indeed." "Yes, true. I heard of it," said I. "And hath aught else been forward?" "Yes. Three of our men have been slain on the shore nigh Charmouth." Again this was no news to me; yet I contrived to say, surprisedly: "Ah, so! By whom?" "I know not," answered Coram; "there is some mystery about the matter, but they were slain by sword, and that by one who knew his business well, according to report." "Well, well," I murmured, "such is war. But, say, how went it with the fight at Bridport?" "Ill enough for us. Our men were beaten back by the militia. They fled like frightened sheep, and ’tis whispered that my Lord Grey was the worst of all; ’tis said he ne’er drew rein till safe in Lyme again. "Now, by my life, that was a bad beginning, sure enough!" "Aye, verily, yet scarce a thing to marvel at, for, look you, how can untrained ploughboys and the like expect to stand an onslaught e’en though it be but that of rough militiamen?" "Ah, how indeed?" I murmured. "And know you when the Duke rides forth from Lyme?" "Nay, that I don’t, nor, as it seems to me, doth anyone for certain. Some say to-morrow, others Monday. Yet still they dally, signing on fresh men." "Ah, they still come in to join, then?" "Aye, that they do--by hundreds; but, oh, such lumbering louts! Save me, if we should not do as well with cows and sheep. And now, to make it worse, we’ve lost Old Dare and Fletcher. Faith, but I like it less each day, and were it not for Ferguson, Duke Monmouth’s cause might whistle for John Coram." "Ah, so Ferguson doth count for much," I murmured, stroking Kitty’s neck to hide my face. "Yea, much indeed," quoth Coram warmly. "He is a leader born--a man of parts withal; but surely, friend, you know ’tis so as well as I," he added with a searching look, "for have you not had pressing business with our godly chaplain?" "Yes, by my life I have, and have it still," I answered. "I ride upon it now." "Another reason why I should not tarry, then," said Coram. "And so farewell, friend. Have a care of Stark, and make sure to kill him if you get the chance." "Be sure of that," said I. "My blessing on it," answered Coram fervently, and with that cantered off. At the bending of the lane he turned and waved a hand. I answered with a will, then also sped upon my way, though with a watchful eye for every tree and bush. *CHAPTER XIX*