They had not ridden a short mile from the place where they left the lad before they heard a man’s voice shouting on the wind behind them, “Robbery! robbery!—­Stop thief!” and similar exclamations, which Wayland’s conscience readily assured him must arise out of the transaction to which he had been just accessory.

“I had better have gone barefoot all my life,” he said; “it is the Hue and Cry, and I am a lost man.  Ah!  Wayland, Wayland, many a time thy father said horse-flesh would be the death of thee.  Were I once safe among the horse-coursers in Smithfield, or Turnbull Street, they should have leave to hang me as high as St. Paul’s if I e’er meddled more with nobles, knights, or gentlewomen.”

Amidst these dismal reflections, he turned his head repeatedly to see by whom he was chased, and was much comforted when he could only discover a single rider, who was, however, well mounted, and came after them at a speed which left them no chance of escaping, even had the lady’s strength permitted her to ride as fast as her palfrey might have been able to gallop.

“There may be fair play betwixt us, sure,” thought Wayland, “where there is but one man on each side, and yonder fellow sits on his horse more like a monkey than a cavalier.  Pshaw! if it come to the worse, it will be easy unhorsing him.  Nay, ’snails!  I think his horse will take the matter in his own hand, for he has the bridle betwixt his teeth.  Oons, what care I for him?” said he, as the pursuer drew yet nearer; “it is but the little animal of a mercer from Abingdon, when all is over.”

Even so it was, as the experienced eye of Wayland had descried at a distance.  For the valiant mercer’s horse, which was a beast of mettle, feeling himself put to his speed, and discerning a couple of horses riding fast at some hundred yards’ distance before him, betook himself to the road with such alacrity as totally deranged the seat of his rider, who not only came up with, but passed at full gallop, those whom he had been pursuing, pulling the reins with all his might, and ejaculating, “Stop! stop!” an interjection which seemed rather to regard his own palfrey than what seamen call “the chase.”  With the same involuntary speed, he shot ahead (to use another nautical phrase) about a furlong ere he was able to stop and turn his horse, and then rode back towards our travellers, adjusting, as well as he could, his disordered dress, resettling himself in the saddle, and endeavouring to substitute a bold and martial frown for the confusion and dismay which sat upon his visage during his involuntary career.

Wayland had just time to caution the lady not to be alarmed, adding, “This fellow is a gull, and I will use him as such.”

When the mercer had recovered breath and audacity enough to confront them, he ordered Wayland, in a menacing tone, to deliver up his palfrey.

“How?” said the smith, in King Cambyses’ vein, “are we commanded to stand and deliver on the king’s highway?  Then out, Excalibur, and tell this knight of prowess that dire blows must decide between us!”