And all this time Fred Forrester rode on at the rear of his little
detachment, longing to get to Newton Abbot and be rid of his painful
charge. The evening grew more pleasant and cool, the moths came out,
and with them the bats, to dart and flit, and capture the myriad gnats
which danced here and there beneath the trees. Then, as they passed
beneath some umbrageous oak, which stretched its ponderous and gnarled
arms across the road, a night-hawk swooped from where it had been
resting upon its parrot toes, its beak toward the bole of the tree, and
skimmed round and round for a time to capture a great moth or two in its
widespread, bristly-edged gape, before swiftly darting back to its
perch, where it commenced its loud, continuous purring noise, which died
softly away as the party rode on.
Sweet moist scents rose from the dewy ground, and as they neared a
marshy pool, a low, musical whining and croaking told that the frogs
which made the stagnant place their home had a full belief that before
long it would rain.
Tired though the party were, it was pleasant travelling now, and as some
horse, feeling freshened by the cool moist air, snorted and tossed its
head, there followed a loud tinkling of accoutrements and an
uncalled-for increase of pace.
As they rode on deep down in a hollow between mighty hedges, a loud hail
seemed to come from the road on the hillside, "Hoi, hoi!" which was
followed by another on the opposite slope, but no one stirred. The call
of the hoot-owl was too familiar to the Coombeland men to deceive.
It was so dark at times down there amid the trees that the horses' heads
were hardly visible, and when fire was struck by an impatient hoof from
a loose stone, the flash given forth seemed by comparison to lighten up
the lane.
Half an hour's increasing darkness was followed by a glow in the east,
and then, slowly rolling up, came the moon, to silver the patches of
firs, to lighten the pensile birches, and make the glossy-leaved beeches
glisten as if wet with rain or frosted with silver. The little river
which ran at the bottom of the valley, meandering on its way, shone out
with flashes of light, as the moon rose higher; and once, in the midst
of Fred's gloomiest thoughts, came, like a gleam of the moon on the
water to lighten all around, the feeling that the world was, after all,
a very beautiful place, and that it was man himself who made it
miserable.
"I mean boy," said Fred, in his musings. "No, I do not; I mean man, for
he is to blame for all this terrible war in which we are going against
the king. But my father says it is just, so I have no right to think
differently."
"How far are we from Newton, Samson?" he asked his follower.
"'Bout four miles now, sir. We've got to turn out of the main west
road, and go through the wood next. Soon be there now."
The turning was reached at the end of another half mile, and the advance
guard soon after came to the edge of the wood, through which a good road
had been cut, the only drawback being that the overhanging trees made it
dark.
Upon this occasion, though, the moon was rising higher and higher,
pouring down a flood of silver light, which lit up the denser part with
its soft diaphanous rays.
The solemn beauty of the scene, with its velvety shadows and silvery
light, impressed every member of the party, so that they rode on in
silence, the horses' hoofs sounding loudly, and the night being so still
that the patter of the advance guard and of those in the rear was
plainly audible.
"How much more is there of this woodland, Samson?" asked Fred, after a
time.
"Not much more, sir, though I can't be sure--it's so many years since I
rode through it with your father--when I was quite a boy."
"What's that?"
"Nothing, sir. Fox, perhaps, or a deer. Everything sounds so plainly
on a night like this. Hear the advance?"
"Yes. Keep close, my lads," cried Fred. "No straggling in the
darkness."
The men closed up, and they were going steadily on, congratulating
themselves on the fact that they would soon be out in the open. A keen
eye was kept upon the prisoners, though there was very little chance for
their escape. The bonds were secure, and their horses' bridles out of
their reach, while, had there been a disposition to urge a horse away
from the rest, and make a dash for it in the darkness, the chances were
that the poor beast would have declined to stir from his companions.
The horse is by nature an animal which, for mutual protection, goes with
a drove of his fellows; and, allowing for the formality of cavalry
movements, there is something in the formation of troops and squadrons
so similar to the natural habits of the horse, that they keep together,
to such an extent that in warfare the "trooper" that has lost his rider
regains the regiment and keeps in his place.
They were so near the edge of the wood now that the advance guard had
passed through into the clear moonlight, and were going calmly on in
full security, as they believed, when all at once a clear sharp order
rang out on the night air; there was a quick trampling of horses, and
the road in front was occupied by a strong body of men, whose position
was between Fred's little detachment and their advance guard.
To have gone on burdened with their prisoners would have meant failure,
to have plunged to right or left into the dense black wood no better
than madness. There was only one course open--retreat; and in the
emergency, young as he was in military evolutions, Fred proved himself
worthy of his charge.
Setting spurs to his horse, he dashed to the front, giving his orders
promptly. The men faced round ready for action, and, in defiance of the
loudly shouted commands to surrender, the prisoners' bridles were seized
and a rapid retreat commenced; but only for the little party to realise
that they were in a trap, for in the darkness ahead they heard fresh
shouts to surrender, from a second body of horsemen, who had been hidden
in the wood till they had passed, and now occupied the road--how strong
it was impossible to tell.
However, here lay their route now. If he had known that he had an enemy
in his rear, Fred would have made a dash forward to try and reach his
advance guard. Under the circumstances, it would have been fresh waste
of time to turn, so again rushing to the front, he cheered on his men,
and, sword in hand, charged, hoping by a bold manoeuvre to reach his
rear guard now, and gallop back with his prisoners.
It was a vain hope. He had time to get his men well in hand, and the
compact little body charged along the dark road, captors and captives
together, for about a hundred yards, when there was the shock of meeting
an advancing troop of the Royalist cavalry. The clashing of swords and
the sharp rattle of blows struck at helmet and breast-piece; the
plunging of horses, yells, and shouts; the deep groans of wounded men;
and then, in the midst of the wild turmoil and hopeless struggle, it
seemed to Fred that there was a short sharp crash of thunder,
accompanied by a mingling of tiny flashes of lightning, and then the
noise and confusion of the skirmish died away--and that was all.