Again and again he could distinctly discern quick, successive reports of fire-arms. “Help! help!” faintly sighed the breeze. “What is all this? What new wonder is to happen on this eventful night?” thought Ned. At that moment his good mare Starlight neighed and became restive. “Hillo! what means this? The mare would not neigh without cause. There is some one in danger; the mare recognizes some old stable companion. I will away, and quickly return.” “Help! help!” was borne upon the breeze. In a moment Wildfire Ned vaulted into the saddle and dashed forward to the scene of strife and danger. The report of fire-arms to Wildfire Ned was like the sounds of most delightful music. His heart leaped within him as he mounted his brave mare, Starlight. “Heaven grant it may turn out to be some more of these skeleton devils,” he said, with a merry laugh. Over hedge and ditch he galloped in the clear moonlight, and soon reached the high road. In the far distance he could perceive a carriage and four, which had been stopped by a party of roadsmen. “Egad!” said Ned, “this is another adventure to-night. I must not let poor travellers be waylaid and robbed by rascally highwayman if I can help it.” He rode straight towards the crowd, and as he approached, perceived the carriage to be that of his uncle. Old Sir Richard Warbeck, it would seem, had started out after Wildfire Ned, in hopes of bringing him back to Darlington Hall. Phillip Redgill, who had professed much friendship “for the wayward lad, Ned,” volunteered to accompany Sir Richard to town. But they had not progressed far when the carriage was attacked by Captain Jack’s party of horsemen, who had resolved not to leave the neighbourhood of Darlington without spoil of some kind. Hence, when they sneaked off from the inn in which Colonel Blood was, they were so enraged at being thus made fools of, that they determined to have revenge on some of the landed gentry thereabout. The first person to fall across them was Sir Richard Warbeck and Phillip Redgill. Captain Jack’s men masked themselves, and counted upon an easy conquest. But they were much mistaken. Old Sir Richard, the moment he was attacked by the ruffians, fired his pistols through the coach windows, and wounded one or two of the rascals, old Bates among the number. Jumping out of the coach, sword in hand, he kept his assailants at bay, manfully and bravely. Phillip Redgill, however, slipped out of the coach by the opposite door, and soon made his escape unharmed. As he was fleeing, Captain Jack overtook him. “A thousand gold guineas if you slay the alderman,” said Redgill, in a confidential whisper. “Done!” said Captain Jack. Redgill gave the robber chief a large purse, and promised the rest at a certain time and place in London. In a few moments Redgill mounted one of the robbers’ horses, and galloped away unperceived by old Sir Richard, who thought Phillip had been killed or desperately wounded.