Headley--Saints rest his soul!--and to bring home yonder spark, my
godson, whose indentures have been made over to me. And I may not
ride a mile after sunset without being set upon by a sort of
robbers, who must have guessed over-well what a pack of cowards they
had to deal with."

"Sir," cried the younger Giles, "I swear to you that I struck right
and left. I did all that man could do, but these rogues of serving-
men, they fled, and dragged me along with them, and I deemed you
were of our company till we dismounted."

"Did you so? Methought anon you saw me go down with three pikes in
my breast. Come, come, godson Giles, speech will not mend it! Thou
art but a green, town-bred lad, a mother's darling, and mayst be a
brave man yet, only don't dread to tell the honest truth that you
were afeard, as many a better man might be."

The host chimed in with tales of the thieves and outlaws who then,
and indeed for many later generations, infested Bagshot heath, and
the wild moorland tracks around. He seemed to think that the
travellers had had a hair's-breadth escape, and that a few seconds'
more delay might have revealed the weakness of the rescuers and have
been fatal to them.

However there was no danger so near the village in the morning, and,
somewhat to Stephen's annoyance, the whole place turned out to
inspect the spot, and behold the burial of poor Spring, who was
found stretched on the heather, just as he had been left the night
before. He was interred under the stunted oak where Master Headley
had been tied. While the grave was dug with a spade borrowed at the