The Yeoman Adventurer
half caprice, with one thought in her eyes and another on her lips.
"So am I, madam. I wish it had been Kate's cookery-book."
She would have mastered me had I stayed another second. I bowed again and
left her.
And this is, perhaps, the best place to say that I did not lose my Virgil
after all. Here it is on the table as I write, still the dearest of all my
books. On each side of the healing an irregular curve of teeth-marks cuts
into the yellowing parchment. Dear, brave Cherry-Cheeks sent it home by
the hands of a vagrom pedlar, laboriously and exactly writing on the
package the inscription she found on the fly leaf:
OLIVER WHEATMAN, Esquire,
of the Hanyards,
Staffordshire,
_Aetatis anno_ 13
I routed out ostlers, and by dint of a judicious blend of cursings and
bribings had the horses ready under the archway in time. Margaret was
there waiting, with our pretty maid fluttering around her. The Colonel was
within, settling with the word-warrior host. I helped Margaret into the
saddle and led her horse into the street, turning its head northward. In a
moment, her father clattered after her on Sultan. I went back to smile
farewell to Cherry-Cheeks and deal out my bribes, but was after them
before they had trotted a stone's throw.
They were cantering towards the bridge by which the high street of the
town crosses a tiny streamlet and again becomes the high road to the
north-west. It was only a pistol-shot from the portico of the "Rising Sun"
to the hither side of the bridge, where a group of townsmen were collected
round a man with a lantern. We had ridden forth into a strangely quiet
town, but before I was half-way to the bridge, and not yet settled down to
my saddle, loud shrieks rang out behind me. Looking back, I saw a woman
leaning forth, candle in hand, from the Duke's bedroom window. She waved
her light and yelled as one distraught. There was no mistaking what had
happened. Sal, the sour-faced hussy who wanted me hanged, had learned the
fate of the spy. Folks rushed from all quarters to see what was the
matter. The sooner we were well out of it the better, and I pricked on to
overtake the Colonel and Margaret.
I was near on them at the bridge, where the gossips had lined up to watch
them pass. Timothy was there, thankful for once, I thought, of his long
coat, while the man who held the lantern was the man to whom I owed a
drubbing. I wondered what he was doing there with a lantern, for it was a
brilliant moonlight night, and, since he made to run townwards as soon as
he saw who was passing, I felt in my bones that he meant mischief and was
probably in league with the spy. I turned my horse at him before he was
clear of the bridge and tumbled him back headlong on Timothy, who yelled
the most astonishing yell I ever heard, snatched the lantern out of Beery
Breath's unresisting fingers, and with it smashed into him with such a
fury that he beat him to his knees.
I laughed, for the man had got his drubbing after all, through me if not
by me. As for the other townies, they enjoyed it like a play.
"Gom!" said one. "He's trod on Tim's gammy toe."
"Damn if he don't turn on 'is missus when 'er does that," said another.
The Colonel and Margaret were looking back when I drew level.
"Anything the matter?" he asked.
"The spy is discovered, sir," I said.
"Does that mean harm to Master Freake?" inquired Margaret.
"Not it," replied the Colonel. "He's got the Mayor in his pocket. Do you
know this country, Oliver?"
"No, sir," was my answer. "Only in broad outline. This is the main road
to Chester, and away on our right is an open country running up into
roughish moorland and hills. Leek lies that way on the Derby road to
London. The country to our left I know nothing about."
"Then we'll stick to the main road as long as possible and stop at the
first inn after all danger-spots are behind us. Sorry to turn you out,
Madge, but it was impossible to stop once Weir found us out, since
Kingston and his men might have turned up at any moment, and then we
should have been done for. All we have to do is to get north of him. From
the south we have nothing to fear now. Brocton's dragoons would have
turned up hours ago if there was any intention of trying to recapture me.
Freake had sent one of his men down the road to give us time to clear off
if Brocton did pursue. That was why I was content to stay on at the inn."
"Weir knows who you are, sir, I take it?" said I.
"Exactly. He's a notorious Government spy, and is busy here worming into
our local plans. There are plenty of the honest party hereabouts, and
especially over to the west there in Wales."
"Are we still in Staffordshire, Master Wheatman?" asked Margaret.
"Oh yes, for quite a distance ahead," I replied.
"The spirit of prophecy is upon me, gentlemen," she said merrily. "Our
Staffordshire luck is not yet out, and this time it's Master Wheatman's
turn."
"Well, then, Master Wheatman shall ride ahead and scout for it. About
thirty yards, Oliver. Keep your horse well in hand, and be all eyes and
ears. Damn this moon! It picks us out like three crows on a field of snow,
and this infernal road's as straight and level as a plank. Ride in any
available shadow!"
I went ahead and set them an easy pace. Work had begun again, the work of
my heart's desire, and all along the Chester road there was no blither
spirit than mine that night. I was astride a flaming sorrel, no match for
Sultan, but still a good sound horse. He knew I was his master and so I
made him a friend, patting his neck, crooning to him, and giving him a
lick of sugar out of my hand. The danger we were in was like wine to my
heart. Enemies ahead and enemies behind, and this bare, bleak,
moon-smitten road between. Now and again, for remembrance' sake and the
joy of it, I cocked my ear to pick out the patter of Margaret's mare from
the heavier, longer strides of Sultan. Yes, there she was, doubtless
murmuring Italian love-ditties to her happy inmost self and thinking
of--Pshaw! This was romancing, and another's romance at that, and it
deadened me against my will, while here was a man's work to do. So I
turned to it and lived.
I examined the holsters, according to Master Freake's orders. I found a
pair of pistols which, even in the pale moonlight, looked what they indeed
were--handsome, accurate weapons, the best work of the best gunsmith in
London. I was the equal of most men with the pistol, and usually had,
indeed, a capital pair at the Hanyards, but Jack had taken them off with
him on his dragooning. Over and above the pistols and their ammunition I
found a sizeable leathern bag, and the feel of it to my fingers showed
that it was chock-full of money. When I did turn it out next day, I found
near on sixty pounds, mostly in guineas and half-guineas, and a note:
"Dear lad, this town is very bare of guineas and many of them are lighter
than the law alloweth, but you shall have more as occasion offers.--Your
friend, J. F."
I turned to the road again with a merrier heart than ever, for I thought,
as Smite-and-spare-not would have thought before me, that the very
handiwork of God Himself was here displayed, in that the seemingly most
untoward events of our journey had been turned into means of strength and
assurance. Had I, as I ought to have done, brought money of my own from
the Hanyards, I should never have started highwayman, and so never have
met Master Freake on Wes'on Bank.
Three miles or more we made in this manner, and I had heard nothing more
alarming than the hoot of an owl from an ivy-crusted elm. Some distance
back the road had climbed slightly for a space, then fallen into the level
again, and now ran, open and unhedged, across the bleaky top of a barren
upland. I chirruped to the sorrel and gave him another lick of sugar to
comfort him. A moment later, I knew by the forward cock of his ears and
the swift up-shake of his head that something was in the wind, and
strained my own ears to listen, for there was nothing of note visible
ahead or around.
From far ahead came the faint rattle of hoofs on the hard road. I pulled
up, and, a moment later, Margaret and the Colonel stopped beside me.
"What is it?" asked the latter.
"Horse coming this way, sir," was my reply. The sounds were already
plainer. For a full minute he listened carefully. "A good number of them,
and making a smart pace," he said. "It can only be Kingston's advance
guard falling back. Most likely the van of the Highlanders has beaten up
their quarters. Once past them we shall be--Hello! Slids! What's that?
Reinforcements! Egad. Oliver, we're between the hammer and the anvil."
He turned his head round sharply and so did Margaret and I. From behind
us came again the unmistakable rattle of a body of horse. We were trapped
completely.
"This is damned annoying," said the Colonel. He looked casually around,
as indifferently as he would have looked round the guest-room of the
"Rising Sun," and added, "Follow me, and ride as if the devil were at your
tail."
He turned off into the bare, flat country, and we after him. How we rode!
He was making for a little group of trees, some dozen wind-sown pines,
stuck like a forlorn picket in enemy country a stone's-throw from the
road. We got there in a bunch, for there was no time for Sultan's pace to
count.
"Damn the moon!" he said, and dismounted. "But this is better than
nothing. Take off Margaret's saddle, Oliver."
I got down, and assisted Margaret to dismount. She thanked me, briefly
and smilingly, as unperturbed as the gaunt pine beneath which she stood.
The Colonel and I changed the saddles, and in a few seconds Margaret was
on Sultan. I asked him in vain to take the sorrel and leave the mare to
me, for she was getting restive, and the Colonel was not quite so able as
I was with a strange horse. I insisted, however, in taking off my coat and
wrapping it about the mare's head, and, being thus blanketed, she gave us
no further trouble. By the Colonel's orders, Margaret, on Sultan, took her
place between us, heading for the open country, while he and I turned to
the road. The thin, straggling pine-branches cast but little shadow, and I
knew it was next to impossible for us to pass unnoticed.
"Now, Madge," said the Colonel, "it's bound to come to a fight. As soon
as the fun begins, off you go like the wind into this bog-hole in front of
you, and in five minutes you'll be out of danger. Make a detour round to
the road again, keep the moon behind your back, and push on to the nearest
inn. Oliver and I will join you there, if so God wills. If we don't,
you're on the Chester road. Have you your money still?"
"Yes, dad."
"You understand, Madge?"
"Quite clearly."
"Then kiss me, sweetheart."
She kissed him without a word, and turned to look goodbye to me. For a
moment I went all aquiver with emotion. This wonderful new life of mine
had at times to be lived in the outskirts and suburbs of death.
Fortunately, a thought came into my head, and I tugged out the leathern
bag and thrust it into her hand.
"Don't leave that under the bed," said I, and, being very bold, as one
may be with death at one's door, I drew her gloved hand, with the bag in
it, towards me, and kissed it. She said nothing to me, but the light in
her eyes was like moonlight on the dancing surface of a mountain spring.
"Look to your pistols, Oliver," ordered the Colonel briefly and crisply.
"See your tuck slips easy in the scabbard. Another minute will decide. You
and I can easily give Madge all the start Sultan requires."
"Easily, sir," I answered stoutly.
"Good lad!" said the Colonel.
And Margaret, leaning across until her lips were near my cheek as I bent
to see what she wanted, said, for the third time, "Well done, fisherman!"