"He must be reinforced—and quickly," cried Charles. "No troops can be spared from the city. Dalyell must send a detachment from St. John's. Careless shall take a message to him at once."
"I will go myself, sire," said Massey, "and take command of the detachment."
"But have you strength enough for the task, general?"
"My strength will return when I meet the enemy," rejoined Massey.
Charles did not attempt to stay him, and he departed.
Again the king watched the regiments advancing from Upton. They came on slowly and cautiously, while the skirmishers scoured the fields and lanes.
"How is this?" cried Charles, angrily. "Are they to be allowed to reach Powick without hindrance?"
"Not so, my liege," replied Middleton, who had taken Massey's place behind the king. "They will meet with a warm reception anon. Look more closely, and you will perceive that the hedges are lined with soldiers. Those are your new recruits, and they are just the men for this sort of work. Ah! they are beginning in earnest now."
As he spoke, firing was heard in the distance, and looking in the direction of the sound, Charles perceived that several of the skirmishers had been shot down, while the riderless horses were careering wildly over the field.
A stronger party was instantly sent on to clear the hedges. But this was no easy task. General Middleton was right. The new recruits understood this kind of fighting. Excellent marksmen, and well posted, they gave their enemies a vast deal of trouble. Driven from one spot, they quickly took up another position, and even while retreating managed to do considerable execution. Their officers knew every inch of ground, and where to place them. Advantage was taken of every lane and defile, and the enemy's progress towards Powick was very considerably checked.