hand upon the reins of the
supposed prince; and thus, silently but rapidly, the little band
threaded the intricacies of the wood, by paths evidently known to
them, and ere the dusk had fully come, had cleared the forest
altogether, and were galloping steadily and fast across the open
country toward the north.

Paul had not spoken another word. He had been in terror lest by
some inadvertent phrase he might betray himself, and let those
fierce men know that he was not the prince; in which case not only
might his own life be forfeit, but the real prince might fall into
their hands. But now as the dusk overtook them, and still they were
flying farther and farther away from the city where the prince lay,
his heart rose, and beat with a generous triumph; for though his
own fate might be a speedy death, the heir of England was safe.

It was dark before the lights of a wayside hostelry became visible
across the dreary waste they were traversing. The leader of the
band turned and addressed a few words to the troopers who had the
care of the captive; and at once he felt himself deprived of the
tell-tale cap and collar, the former of which was replaced by a
cloth cap belonging to one of the men, which almost concealed the
boy's features. He was also wrapped in a mantle that further
disguised him; and thus they rode up to the inn.

A ruddy stream of light poured out from that comfortable hostelry,
and Paul saw, seated on his stout nag, with three of his servants
behind him, the well-known figure of a neighbouring farmer, whom
business often took to a town many miles from his native place.

The troopers were dismounting and hurrying into the inn. Two only
remained with their prize. Paul's resolution was quickly taken. He
threw off the encumbering mantle and cap, and cried aloud:

"Gaffer Hood, Gaffer Hood, come and help me! These men have carried
me off, and are taking me I know not whither. Come and help me to
get free, and my father will richly reward you. They think I am the
Prince of Wales, who was playing with me but this afternoon. Tell
them who I really am, and they will let me go."

"By the mass, if that be not the voice of little Paul Stukely!"
exclaimed the honest farmer in great amazement, as he brought his
stout nag alongside the animal that carried the child. The troopers
drew their swords as if to interpose (and in those days it was
considered better to leave these reckless gentlemen alone when they
had booty i