So saying, he wheeled round, and galloped back as fast as he could to Wanny Crags.
The magistrate followed with the whole of his troop. He would not allow them to fire, or the career of the fugitive would soon have been checked.
The squire called out loudly as he drew near the crags, and in answer to the cry, forty or fifty armed insurgents suddenly appeared at various points; while an equal number of horsemen, headed by Lord Derwentwater and Mr. Forster, came from behind the rocks.
Confounded by this unexpected sight, and instantly comprehending the snare into which he had fallen, the magistrate would have fled, but before he could stir, his bridle was seized by Squire Hall, who exclaimed:
“You threatened to arrest me, Sir William. Now you are my prisoner.”
While the magistrate was hesitating, Lord Derwentwater called out:
“Bid your men lay down their arms instantly, Sir William, or we shall fire upon them.”
“Hold! my lord!” exclaimed the squire. “I am very much mistaken if these worthy fellows are not inclined to join us. Save your lives,” he added to the militiamen, “and shout for James the Third!”
“Long live King James!” cried the whole of the troop.
“Ah, traitors! ah, rebels! is it thus you support your king?” cried the magistrate.