Neal stood upright.
“I surrender to you, Captain Twinely. I surrender as a prisoner of war.”
It seemed to him the only chance of saving Peg MacIlrea. It was just possible that the yeomen would be satisfied with one prisoner.
“By God,” said the captain, “if it isn’t that damned young Ward again. Come, croppy, come, croppy, I’ll give you a run for your life. I’ll give you two minutes start by my watch, and I’ll hunt you like a fox. It’s a better offer than you deserve.”
Neal stood still, and made no answer.
“To him, sergeant, prick him with your sword. Set him running.”
The sergeant came blundering through the hedge. Neal stepped forward to meet him, in the hope of keeping Peg concealed, but the sergeant caught sight of her.
“There’s another of them, Captain, lying in the grass.”
“Rout him out, rout him out,” said Captain Twinely, “we’ll run the two. We’ll have sport.”
The sergeant stepped forward and kicked Peg. Neal flew at the man and knocked him down.