He fired his piece, however, but he missed his mark, and threw down the gun, while Barecolt, catching him by the shoulder, put his sword to his throat, exclaiming--
"Yield, or you are a dead man!"
The sentinel had no hesitation on the subject, having already received a sharp wound on the head, which left him little inclination to court more.
"Now tell me who is in the village," exclaimed Barecolt; "and see that you tell truth, for your life depends upon it."
"Three companies of Colonel Harris's regiment," answered the soldier, "and a troop of Lord Essex's own horse."
"The number?" demanded Barecolt.
"Four hundred foot and a hundred troopers," replied the man; and having a little recovered from his first apprehension, he demanded--"Who may you be?"
"My name is Johnson," answered Barecolt, readily, "first captain of Sir Nicholas Jarvis's regiment of horse, marching up to join the Earl of Beverley and Lord Walton at Hendon, near Coventry. We thought they were quartered in this village: whereabout do they lie?"
"Oh, no," answered the man, "they are five miles to the east, we hear, and we were to attack them on the march tomorrow."
"Are you telling me the truth?" said Barecolt, in a stern tone; "but I will make sure of that, for I will take you with me to Sir Nicholas Jarvis, and if we find you have cheated us as to where they lie, you shall be shot to-morrow at daybreak. Tie his hands, some of you---- Hark! there is a drum! There, curse him, let him go; we have no time to spare; I must get back to Sir Nicholas, and let him know we are on the wrong road."