he was presently followed by others, amongst whom was
Crispin.

In the High Street Galliard came upon the King, mounted on a fresh
horse, addressing a Scottish regiment of foot. The soldiers had thrown
down their arms and stood sullenly before him, refusing to obey his
command to take them up again and help him attempt, even at that late
hour, to retrieve the fortunes of the day. Crispin looked on in scorn
and loathing. His passions awakened at the sight of Lesley's inaction
needed but this last breath to fan it into a very blaze of wrath. And
what he said to them touching themselves, their country, and the Kirk
Committee that had made sheep of them, was so bitter and contemptuous
that none but men in the most parlous and pitiable of conditions could
have suffered it.

He was still hurling vituperations at them when Colonel Pride with
a troop of Parliamentarian horse--having completely overcome the
resistance at the Sidbury Gate--rode into the town. At the news of this,
Crispin made a last appeal to the infantry.

"Afoot, you Scottish curs!" he thundered. "Would you rather be cut to
pieces as you stand? Up, you dogs, and since you know not how to live,
die at least without shame!"

But in vain did he rail. In sullen quiet they remained, their weapons on
the ground before them. And then, as Crispin was turning away to see to
his own safety, the King rode up again, and again he sought to revive
the courage that was dead in those Scottish hearts. If they would not
stand by him, he cried at last, let them slay him there, sooner than
that he should be taken captive to perish on the scaffold.

While he was still urging them, Crispin unceremoniously seized his
bridle.

"Will you stand here until you are taken, sire?" he cried. "Leave them,
and look to your safety."

Charles turned a wondering eye upon the resolute, battle-grimed face of
the man that thus addressed him. A faint, sad smile parted his lips.

"You are right, sir," he made answer. "Attend me." And turning about he
rode down a side street with Galliard following closely in his wake.

With the intention of doffing his armour and changing his apparel, he
made for the house in New Street where he had been residing. As they
drew up before the door, Crispin, chancing to look over his shoulder,
rapped out an oath.

"Hasten, sire," he exclaimed, "here is a portion of Colonel's Pride's
troop."

The King looked round, and at sight of the Parliamentarians, "It