A headstrong girl was beyond my management, and my words of entreaty were lost in the babel of cries.
But just then there came another sound.

From the four quarters of the moor there closed in upon us horsemen.

They came silently and were about us before I had a hint of their presence.

It was a troop of dragoons in the king's buff and scarlet, and they rode us down as if we had been hares in a field.

The next I knew of it I was sprawling on the ground with a dizzy head, and horses trampling around me, I had a glimpse of Muckle John with a pistol at his nose, and the sorrel curveting and plunging in a panic.