It was now two hours to sundown, and they anticipated that another hour´s travel would bring them to the ford. They were toiling uphill, Gervase a little in advance mounted upon Bayard, and Macpherson stepping out sturdily in the rear. On the top of the hill Gervase halted, reined the horse back hastily within shelter of a clump of hazel, and called out to Macpherson, who hurried up and joined him where he stood. Together they looked down the valley. “What is the matter yonder?” Macpherson asked, instinctively placing his hand on his pistol-butt. “I know not,” said Gervase, “but I think it is robbery and murder.” “Then, my young friend,” said the other, laying his hand on the horse´s bridle, “it is not our business, and we have cares enough of our own without taking on us the troubles of others. But how is the day going?” A quarter of a mile down the steep road lay a post-chaise overturned: one of the horses lay dead in the ditch, the other was flying with broken traces over a neighbouring field. A man with his back to the coach and a sword in his hand, was valiantly striving to keep at bay half-a-dozen wild-looking fellows armed with half-pikes. Two bodies lay at his feet, another a little distance away, and outside the ring of assailants that surrounded the solitary swordsman, a young woman was kneeling in an agony of distress over the prostrate body of a man. The man with the sword fought with skill and strength, but the odds were terribly against him. In the end he must succumb. “By the living God, it is a woman,” said Gervase, grappling blindly and eagerly at the holster. “Softly, what would you--what have we to do with women?” “Follow me, follow me, for God´s sake, as speedily as you can,” Gervase cried, dashing his unarmed heels into the horse´s flank, and giving him free head. Away went the brave steed thundering down the steep road, as Gervase gave a great shout and flourished the long pistol above his head. Macpherson watched his breakneck career down the hill for a few seconds, and then proceeded to follow him with the best speed that he could make. “I would not lose the youth or my good horse for all the women in Christendom. This is but the beginning of trouble, and it begins with a woman.” Hearing the shout, the swordsman had turned his head for a moment, and at that instant one of his assailants sprang within his guard, and plunged his skene deep into his breast. With one last convulsive effort the wounded man struck his opponent fair in the face with the sword hilt, and they both dropped on the road together. Seeing Gervase approaching, the ruffians appeared to doubt whether they should take to flight or await his attack, but while they were making up their minds, Gervase was on the top of them.