his
saddle; "if you don't sit still I'll get one of the pack ropes and
tie you on, like a sack. I never see such a fidgety young elver in
my----Oh, look at that!"

The man gave a tug at his horse's rein; but it was not needed, for
the stout cob had cocked its ears forward and stopped short, just
as the mules in front whisked themselves round, and the men who
drove them began to huddle together in a group.

For all at once the way was barred by about a dozen men in rough
weather-stained green jerkins, each with a long bow and a sheaf of
arrows at his back, and a long quarter-staff in his hand.

David, confidential servant and head man to Aunt Hester, of the
cloth works at Ellton, looked sharply round at the half-dozen
heavily-laden mules behind him; and beyond them he saw another
dozen or so of men, and more were coming from among the trees to
right and left.

"Hoi! all of you," cried David to his men. "Swords out! We must
fight for the mistress's cloth."

As he spoke, he seized the hilt of his sword and began to tug at
it; but it would not leave its sheath, and all the while he was
kicking at his horse's ribs with his heels, with the result that
the stout cob gave a kick and a plunge, lowered its head, and
dashed off at a gallop, with David holding on to the pommel.

Two of the men made a snatch at the reins, but they were too late,
and turned to the mule-drivers, who were following their leader's
example and trying to escape amongst the trees, leaving the mules
huddled together, squealing and kicking in their fright.

Young Robin just saw two packages roll to the ground as the cob
dashed off; then he was holding on with all his might to old
David's belt as the cob galloped away with half-a-dozen of the
robbers trying to cut it off.

[Illustration: The stout cob dashed of at a gallop, with David
holding on to the pommel.]

Then the little fellow felt that he was being jerked and knocked
and bruised, as the horse tore along with David, head and neck
stretched out. There was a rush under some low boughs, and another
rush over a patch of brambles and tall bracken; then the cob made a
bold dash at a dense mass of low growth, when there was a violent
jerk as he made a bound, followed by a feeling as if the boy's arms
were being torn out at the shoulders, a rush through the air, a
heavy blow, and a sensation of tearing, and all was, giddiness and
pain.

CHAPTER II

It is not nice to be pitched by a