"God save the King!"
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I turned as I shouted; and, as the last word left my lips, I saw Rumbald, his face afire with anger, coming at me, round my horse from behind, with the cleaver upraised. If he had not been near mad with disappointment, he would have struck at my horse; but he was too intent on me for that.
I leapt forward, for I had no time to do anything else, dragging my horse's haunches forward again and round; and with the next movement I was across my saddle, all-asprawl, as my horse started and plunged. I was ten yards away before the man could do anything, and struggling to my seat; but, as I rose and gripped the reins, something flew over my head, scarce missing it by six inches; and I saw the blade of the cleaver flash into the ditch beyond.
At that, I turned and lifted my hat, reining in my horse; for I was as mad with success as the other man with failure.
"God save the King!" I cried again. "Ah! Mr. Rumbald, if only you had learned to speak the truth!"
Then I put in my spurs and was gone, hearing before me, the hollow tramp and rumble of the great coach in front, as the King's party went across the bridge.
CHAPTER XI
It was three months later that I sat once more, though not for the first time since my adventure at the Rye in Mr. Chiffinch's parlour.
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