The horse gallops up the ribbon of moonlight across the purple moor and the highwayman comes riding, riding up Ye Olde Inne doore.

"Whoa, Trigger...er, Silver...er, Tony...ah, Champ...STOP GODDAMMIT!" he yells. And the horse does stop. Suddenly and completely, throwing the highwayman over his head, his rapier flipping neatly from its scabbard and burying itself point first in the crest of the new-fallen snow. The rider strikes his dismount, give himself a "10" and the horse a dirty look.

His mount looks innocently away; the highwayman re-sheaths his sword and walks to The Olde Inne doore.