the shirt of Nessus.
Nor for a few seconds could he get rid of his diabolical helmet: for
a couple of bees had stung the charger, which began to plunge and
caper like a mad thing, scattering the crowd right and left with his
hoofs. When at length he shook the hive off, the furious swarm
poured out upon the air, dealing vengeance. The soldiers, whose red
coats attracted them at once, fled this way and that, howling with
pain, pursued now by the bees and now chased into circles by the
lashing heels of the grey horse. The poor brute was stung by degrees
into a frenzy. With a wild leap, in which his four legs seemed to
meet under his belly, he pitched his master clean over the crupper
and, as a wind through chaff, swept through the people at a gallop
and off along the road towards the town.

"Phew!" whistled Captain John Barker: and stepping quickly to the
prostrate officer he whipped the unhappy gentleman's sword from its
sheath and handed it to Tristram.

"We'd best get out of this."

"That's not easy. There's a score of soldiers between us and the
gate; and the sergeant looks like mischief."

"Bless my soul, what a face I've put on that young man!"

The officer, who had been stunned for a moment by his fall, was soon
recalled to life by the pain of the stings. He sat up and looked
round. Already his face had about as much feature as a turnip.
His eyes were closing fast, and a lump as large as a plover's egg
hung on his under-lip.

"Seize those men!" he shouted, and began a string of oaths, but
stopped because the utterance caused him agony.

The sergeant, who had been bending over him, drew his side-arm and
advanced--a hulking big fellow with a pimply face and an ugly look in
his eye.

"Dad," said Tristram, "you made me promise once never to run a man
through unless he molested me in the midst of a peaceful pursuit."

"Well?"

"It appears to me that bee-keeping is a peaceful pursuit."

"Decidedly."

"And that this fellow is going to molest me."

"It looks like it."

"Then I may run him through?"

"Say rather that you must."

"Thank you, dad. I felt sure of it; but this is the first time I've
had to decide, and as it was a promise--You'd best get behind me, I
think. Set your back to the arch. Now, sir."

"You are my prisoners," the sergeant announced.

"Pardon me. Let me direct your notice to this weapon, which is in
_carte_--you seem to have overlooked it."

"You are making matters