to be at an
end, and the Parliamentarians were in full flight.

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.

SAMSON TO THE RESCUE.

Unscathed, in spite of the terrible dangers of the _melee_, Fred, after
succeeding in reaching his companions, joined them in their charge, and
was driven back in their reverse, riding headlong as they rode in what
was hardly a retreat, but rather a running fight, till seeing his
opportunity, he made for where he could see General Hedley striving, in
company with the officers, to check the retrograde movement, but
striving in vain.

For there was a wild valour and dash exhibited by the Cavaliers, which
for the time being carried all before them. No sooner had something
like a rally been made by the Parliamentarians, than the Royalists
charged at them in a headlong rush, which would have ended in almost
total destruction with some troops.

But there was a sturdy solidity about the followers of General Hedley,
and the result of these charges was that, while some fell, the others
were merely moved here and there, and as soon as their assailants had
passed on they seemed to hang together again, driven outward always, but
not scattered. In fact, for mile after mile the running fight was
continued, growing slower and slower as horse and man were wearied out,
till, had a minute's grace been afforded them, General Hedley felt that
he could have gathered his men together, and by one vigorous charge have
changed the state of affairs.

But the opportunity for re-formation was never afforded, and the great
crowd of mounted men of both parties rode on mingled together in
confusion, right over the wild moorland countryside. The number of
individual combats was almost countless, and their track was marked by
the heather being dotted with fallen men, the wounded, and often the
dismounted, and by exhausted or hopelessly foundered horses.

And still the fight went on, with the attacks growing more feeble, till
the Cavaliers' horses could hardly be spurred into a canter, and many a
one stopped short.

It was a strange flight, in which the beaten gave way slowly, and with
an obstinate English tenacity of purpose, which made them cling to their
enemies, and refuse to acknowledge their rout. They were broken up,
and, according to all preconceived notions of cavalry encounters, they
ought to have scattered and fled, but they only went on as they were
driven and broken up in knots, and the Cavalier leader knew perfectly