out. As he did so a stilt struck him on the head. Its owner had aimed it
at Lord Rippingdale; but as my lord's horse plunged, it missed him, and
struck the King fair upon the crown of the head. He swayed, groaned and
fell back into the open door of the coach. Lord Rippingdale was at once
beside him, sword drawn, and fighting gallantly.

"Scoundrels," he cried, "will you kill your King?"

"We will have the money which the King carries," cried one of his
assailants. "The price of three knighthoods and the taxes of two shires
we will have."

One of the King's gentlemen had fallen, and another was wounded. Lord
Rippingdale was hard pressed, but in what seemed the last extremity of
the King and his party there came a shout from the other side of the
stream:

"God save the King! For the King! For the King!"

A dozen horsemen splashed their way across the stream, and with swords
and pistols drove through the King's assailants and surrounded his coach.
The ruffians made an attempt to rally and resist the onset, but presently
broke and ran, pursued by a half-dozen of his Majesty's defenders. Five
of the assailants were killed and several were wounded.

As Lord Rippingdale turned to Charles to raise him, the coach-door was
opened upon the other side, a light was thrust in, and over the
unconscious body of the King my lord recognised John Enderby.

"His Majesty"--began John Enderby.