There came the tramp of feet without and the sound of men pushing their way through the hedgerows. “The dog headed this way,” says a voice. “Why, this is the old bridge!” says another. But by that time I had got to my feet and drawn the other pistol from my belt. “Behind me, Alison!” says I, “We’ll have a life or two ere we yield.”
The bushes were suddenly filled with men. I saw Anthony Dacre’s face amongst the throng, and Merciful Wiggleskirk peering round the corner. I levelled the pistol full at Anthony and laughed to see him duck his head. “Coward!” says Alison in my ear. “Spare your powder for better men, Dick.”
She had never called me Dick before—at any rate, since we were children. I turned hastily to her. “Sweetheart!” I says, “this is the end, but by heaven, I love you!”
After that, I think I must have swooned and fallen. When I came to my senses again I was lying on the road above the bridge, with Alison and Merciful Wiggleskirk at my side, and Anthony Dacre talking to an officer on horseback close by. I strove to rise, half wondering where I was, and it was only the pain in my foot that suddenly reminded me of our position.
III.
Having fairly recovered my senses I looked round me and found that we were in the midst of a score or so of troopers, apparently under command of a middle-aged officer who seemed fierce enough to eat hot lead. This worthy, turning from Anthony Dacre, with whom he had been conversing, presently approached me and enquired if I were now in a condition to travel.
“Aye,” says I, “but not a-foot, sir.”
“You shall have a mount, Master Coope,” says he, and beckons a trooper to bring up a horse, upon which I clambered with some pain and difficulty. “We must make what haste we can,” says he, “for Fairfax is somewhat impatient to meet you.”
He gave me a curious, knowing look as he turned from me to Alison.
“As for you, madam,” he says, “I fancy that some arrangement has been made for you by your kinsman, Master Dacre; you are free, at any rate, so far as I am concerned.”