Rupert sat near one end of the table, with the eldest son of the
host. As a matter of course they kept absolute silence in an
assembly of their elders, only answering shortly and respectfully
when spoken to. When dinner was over, however, and the ladies rose,
they slipped away to a quiet room, and made up for their long
silence by chatting without cessation of their dogs, and hawks, and
sports, until at six o'clock the coach came round to the door, and
Rupert, again donning his cloak and riding boots, mounted his
horse, and rode slowly off after the carriage.

Slow as the progress had been in the daytime, it was slower now.
The heavy coach jolted over great lumps of rough stone, and bumped
into deep ruts, with a violence which would shake a modern vehicle
to pieces. Sometimes, where the road was peculiarly bad, the
lackeys would get down, light torches at the lanterns that hung
below the box, and show the way until the road improved.

They had ridden about six miles, when some distance ahead the sound
of pistol shots, followed by loud shouts, came sharply on the ear.
Rupert happened to be in front, and with the love of adventure
natural to his age, he set spurs to his horse and dashed forward,
not hearing, or at any rate not heeding, the shouts of his
grandfather. Colonel Holliday, finding that Rupert was fairly off,
bade the lackeys get down, and follow him at a run with their
pistols, and urged the coachman to drive on with all possible
speed. Rupert was not long in reaching the scene of action; and
hurried the more that he could hear the clinking of sword blades,
and knew that the resistance of those assailed had not ceased.