When we reached the foot of the steep road that wound its way up the hillside in a gigantic curve, the jaded beasts were exhausted. Jumping from the waggon, the soldiers strove their utmost to push it up the incline, but after less than twenty yards the hopelessness of the task became apparent. The rebels, breathless with running, were less than a hundred yards behind. "Swing the waggon round!" shouted Widdicombe. "And cut the traces." The next instant the heavy waggon was drawn across the road, while the horses were led further up the hill to the shelter of a dense wood. Unslinging their petronels and ordering their muskets, the troopers lay behind the waggon or under the cover afforded by the rocks by the roadside, whilst I, unable by reason of my arm being still in a sling to load a pistol, could only wait, sword in hand, for the possibility of the rebels coming within sword's reach. There were at least eighty of the enemy against our twenty-two men, though the nature of our position counted for much. Had Widdicombe so wished, he could, by abandoning the waggon, easily have made a retreat, all his party being mounted, but flight was far from his thoughts. "Lie down!" he exclaimed sternly to me, and barely had I taken shelter behind a fern-clad bank than both sides opened fire. Splinters flew from the woodwork of the waggon, bullets knocked up little clouds of white dust as they struck the road behind us, yet with the greatest coolness the sergeant continued to give the words of the firing manual to his trained men, as, blowing, priming, casting about, and discharging their pieces, the soldiers of the convoy kept up a steady fire upon the enemy. Thick smoke enveloped us, but through the drifting vapour I could get an occasional glimpse of the Roundheads, who, in an ever-increasing semicircle, strove to take us in front and on our right flank. Our left, fortunately, consisted of an almost sheer face of rock. "Two men are down, sergeant," exclaimed a white-faced soldier on my left. He was a mere boy compared to me in size, though no doubt older, and it was his first time under fire. "What odds if twenty are down?" retorted Widdicombe grimly. "Go on firing," and plucking up courage by the sergeant's example, the recruit bore himself right manfully. For half an hour the firing continued, without the rebels gaining any material advantage, but Widdicombe began to look grave, for I knew his thoughts were on the limited supply of ammunition. Another man was down, writhing with a ball through his shoulder, and in addition five men had expended their charges. These latter he sent to remount their horses in readiness to cover their retreat. "We must needs abandon the wain, Master Markham," he said. "Though I call you to witness I did my best to save it." "'Tis but a waggon," I replied, wondering at the stubbornness with which he defended it.