On our part, Colonel Firestone and I were subjected to the awkward predicament of being under the fire of our own party, the bullets whistling unpleasantly above our heads. Although several of the dragoons essayed to make a stand, their pursuers drove them back with the loss of three killed and five wounded, till at length the chase ended at Lostwithiel Bridge, by the timely arrival of a strong body of musketeers from the Roundhead stronghold. Here Chaloner handed us over to a captain of pikemen, who conducted us to the church, where, still bound, we were placed in a corner of the sacred edifice under a strong guard. The floor of the nave was strewn with straw, some twenty or more horses being stabled here, while gathered in small groups were the rough soldiery, polishing their arms.[1] Presently there entered an officer, whom I recognised in a moment. It was Captain Dawe, the man we had befriended when attacked by robbers near Whitchurch, and the recognition was mutual, though the Roundhead captain placed his finger meaningly on his mouth. "Why are these men trussed up in this fashion?" he demanded. "By Captain Chaloner's orders, sir," replied one of the men who mounted guard over us. "'Tis unduly harsh. Cast off those ropes. Have they been questioned?" "I know not, sir." "Then stand aside while I obtain information of the malignant forces." Our bonds were unfastened, and we stood upright, glad to stretch our cramped limbs. "More I dare not do," said Captain Dawe in a low tone. "But seize the first chance of escape, for 'tis certain this Captain Chaloner is intent on your deaths. Your outposts are in possession of Restormel Castle. Dost know where it lieth?" "No," I replied. "But a mile and a half from the north gate. Gain it, and all will be well, for I foresee that we are sore beset by your troops. To-night, perchance, I'll try to make your way still easier, but till then--farewell." Our benefactor went out, while our guards resumed their places, one having brought us some food, which we ate with avidity, having been without refreshment since early morning. Then, making ourselves as comfortable as the hard oak pews would permit, we feigned sleep. Immediately after Captain Dawe's departure a scene of rioting began, ending in an uproar that filled me with disgust. "Can we sit here idle, and gaze upon this vile work?" I whispered fiercely to my companion, for I was beside myself with fury. "Not I," replied Firestone. "Then let's fall upon them," I exclaimed in a low voice. The next instant I had pushed aside our guards and sprung on the pew, the colonel following almost as quickly, in spite of his wooden leg. Before the noisy fellows could grasp the meaning of our sudden onslaught, I had seized the leading spirit by the throat. With an almost superhuman effort, I dashed his head against the font, the stonework stopping his blasphemy for the time being.