CHAPTER XIII

PHARAOH'S KINE

"And now to business," said Master Freake.

"To pleasure, sir," said the Colonel. "Business is over."

He was leisurely filling his pipe, an example which Margaret, with a

smile and a nod, gave me permission to follow.

"Tell us how you escaped," said Margaret. "Master Wheatman cannot too

soon begin to learn the tricks of the trade. Sorry, dad," bending to kiss

his hand; "you needn't look at me in German. I mean rudiments of the

profession."

"A woman who calls soldiering a trade ought to be forcibly married to a

parson," said the Colonel passionately.

"There'll be a reasonable quantity of parsons to choose from at Chester,"

she retorted, laughing up in his face.

"Chester? Why Chester?" demanded Master Freake, suddenly tense and

vigilant.

"I need name no name, but a certain dignitary's lady there, one of our

supporters, undertook to take her in charge while this affair was on,"

explained the Colonel.

Master Freake, it seemed to me, was disappointed with the explanation,

and, knowing that what Margaret wanted was to have the rumour of her

father's intended treachery blown to pieces by his own account, I said,

"There's only one parson in England fit to look at Mistress Margaret, and

he's sixty and married. Let me learn, I pray you, sir, the art of slipping

out of the hands of a squad of dragoons on a road crowded with soldiery."

"If you think you are to hear a tale that will make you grip the arms of

your chairs, you're in for a sad disappointment. Yesterday and through the

night, they stuck to me as if Geordie had offered thirty thousand pounds

for me, dead or alive, but this morning their hold on me slackened. They

might have intended me to escape. I was put on a fresh horse, about the

best they'd got; the dragoon in charge of me was three parts drunk when we

started; we got mixed up in a crowd of foot retreating south, and

separated from our main body, and finding myself alone on the road with

one man, and him drunk, I just knocked him off his horse, and cleared off

across the fields.

"I rode on until I got a sight of this town, and the main road into it,

from a hill-top, and watched for an hour or so to see what was happening.

I knew by my pace that I was well ahead of my late escort, and seeing no

signs of them, came on to this inn, and was enjoying a good dinner when I

saw Sultan and Oliver on him. The rest you know. Not much of a tale. Madge

has done better many a time."

"Do you really think the Captain intended you to escape?" It was Margaret

who asked the question, looking intently at me as she spoke.

I looked from her to Master Freake and back again, meaning to remind her

that I wanted no convincing, but she still kept her eyes on mine, her chin

cupped in her long white hands, and I was glad of her insistence for I

could look at her without offence. I thought the mellow fire-light made

her look more beautiful than ever. The lustrous yellow hair shone like

molten gold, and the dark blue eyes became a queenly purple.

"If it were done on purpose it was done cleverly," continued the Colonel,

"for the chance which set me free came quite naturally. The horse I rode

yesterday was wanted in the usual way by a trooper to whom it belonged,

and where so many men were more or less drunk, the choice of my particular

drunkard was certainly accidental. And, besides, what possible motive

could there be in letting me escape? Brocton knows I'm an experienced

soldier of great repute--I state plain facts--and am eagerly expected by

the Prince and by my old companion-in-arms, Geordie Murray. They couldn't

have planned it better if they had wished it, but it's absurd to say they

wished it. There ought to be a cashiered captain and a half-flayed dragoon

somewhere south of us. Damme, I merit that at least."

He bent over the hearth to relight his pipe. Master Freake smiled and

rubbed his hands gently. Margaret's eyes blazed with triumph, and

challenged me, still me, to share it. Woman-logic was clean beyond my poor

wits. I was sick for action. These glorious interludes with Margaret gave

me no chance. It was like setting me afire and asking me not to burn.

Thinking of the poor, half-flayed devil behind us, made me think of the

sergeant, and I asked Master Freake, "Did you give the sergeant his papers

and letter?"

"No," was the ready reply. "The papers dealt rather frankly with certain

regimental accounts, and, since the sergeant is now very bitterly set

against us, may be useful in my hands. I had a shrewd notion that the

letter concerned the title to certain lands as to which Lord Brocton and I

are at odds, and on opening it I found to my satisfaction that I was

right. With your permission, Oliver, I will keep it."

"By all means do so," said I, anxious to burn again, and turning back to

Margaret. If this silent, capacious man, so great a stranger yet so clear

a friend, had said that the letter was about a new edition of Virgil, I

should have believed him, and also, I fear me, have been equally

uninterested. Latin be damned!

"Something for you in Oliver's magic-hat," said Margaret smilingly to

Master Freake. "He really must fetch something out for himself soon.

Staffordshire is by far the most delightful country I have ever been in.

Only one little day has gone by, and in that day Staffordshire has given

me more and truer friends than Europe gave me in ten years. I shall cross

its borders with regret. Shall we make the most of it while we have it and

sleep here, dad?"

"Unless we're routed out," was his reply, "and I do not think we shall

be, for the enemy have all cleared out of the town. Cumberland is, of

course, doing the right thing. He had few men north of Stafford, and fewer

still worth powder and shot. Where the Prince is I've no idea."

"Resting for the day at Macclesfield," said Master Freake, "and his plans

are not certain, or, at least, not known. The Duke of Kingston has a small

body of horse at Congleton and is watching his movements."

"Damme," the Colonel broke in, "I did not know we had enemies north of

us. Are you sure?"

"Certain. One of my men reported the facts to me just before supper."

"It's awkward, or rather will be awkward if anyone who knows me turns up.

That rascally landlord of ours must have known where Kingston was, but

amid all his talk he never told me that. Damme, somebody's got hold of

him. Still, you can't take the bull by the horns till his nose is

slobbering your waistcoat, so pass the wine, Oliver."

He refilled his glass and then, leisurely and with his eyes dreamily

fixed on the fire, loaded his pipe with a new charge of tobacco, and went

on smoking.

"Are you a Jacobite?" suddenly asked Margaret, looking inquiringly at

Master Freake.

"Dear me, no, Mistress Margaret," was the frank reply. "But you need not

curl those sweet lips of yours, for neither am I a Hanoverian."

"Then what are you?" she asked again, with the same uncompromising

directness.

"A Freakeiteian," said he with a smile.

"It puzzles me," was her brief comment.

"Let me explain," said he simply. "A Jacobite wants Charles to win; a

Hanoverian wants George to win; a Freakeiteian wants to know who is going

to win."

By this time Margaret was no more puzzled than I was. Yesterday when I

stood on the river-bank watching my cork, I cared not a rap whether George

or Charles won, and that was an understandable position; but why a man

should be spending money in handfuls, and roughing it in the wilds of

Staffordshire, merely in order to know who was going to win, was beyond my

poor wits.

"You do not understand?" he said.

"No," said Margaret and I together.

The Colonel took no notice. He was puffing away at his pipe,

long-drawn-out, solemn puffs, and gazing at the fire in a brown study.

"Well, Margaret and Oliver," said Master Freake, "this is no time to be

giving you lessons in the way the great world wags that neither knows nor

cares of outs and ins and party shufflings, but is busy with rents and

crops, and incomings and outgoings, and debts and credits, and wivings and

thrivings. But, believe me, in being anxious to know who is going to win,

I am as plainly and simply doing my duty as is the Colonel who is going to

do his best to help his Prince to win. I am one, and, I thank God, not the

least, of that great race of men who are destined to mould a mightier

England than the sword could ever carve--the merchant of London whose nod

is his bond."

He spoke with simple dignity and his word was established. I had trusted

him on sight. "His nod was his bond." You saw it in the man's clear,

steady eyes and knew it by the set of his firm, square chin. After a

warning glance at the silent Colonel, he leaned forward, and Margaret bent

to meet him.

"If Charles loses," he murmured, "many heads will be smitten from their

shoulders."

The colour left her cheeks instantly and tears welled forth from her eyes.

"But not the Colonel's," he whispered.

I was watching her with the eye of a hawk. A smile dawned on the white

face, the sad eyes began to lose their gloom, and my fool of a heart began

to flutter.

Yet once more he whispered, "And not Oliver's."

She leaned farther forward still and kissed him.

And it was just at that moment that the door opened smartly and

Cherry-Cheeks put her sweet head round it and swiftly and peremptorily

beckoned me outside.

Margaret laughed.

In the dim passage, Cherry-Cheeks caught my hand affrightedly and

babbled, "Oh, sir, there's the ugliest beast you ever saw spying on her

ladyship. Take your boots off, sir, and creep after me!"

I tugged them off and we started. Along the passage she flew and upstairs

into the corresponding passage above. Here, outside the Duke's room, she

stopped and whispered, "He'll think I'm that bitch Sal. Hide behind me!"

She opened the door and stole into the room with me in tow, holding her

skirt and crouching down nearly to the floor.

She was somewhat broad in the beam, like a Dutch hoy, and all I could see

was a dull glimmer somewhere ahead in the darkness.

"Ssss-h, damn ye," said the beast fiercely. "Stand still!"

Cherry-Cheeks took care not to stop till near the light, and then, with

wonderful ready wit, put her right hand on her hip and I peeped through

between arm and waist.

Full length on his belly lay the man from Yarlet Bank. There was a small

spy-hole in the floor, on the edge of the hearth, and he had his right ear

against it, which was lucky, for it kept his face turned from me. The

notebook lay open on the floor near a guttering tallow candle in an iron

candlestick, and the stump of pencil was clenched in his dirty yellow

teeth.

I threw my handkerchief on the floor, took my fat little Virgil in my

left hand, and crept out to him. When near on top of him, I gripped him

round the nape of the neck, digging my fingers in his flabby throat, and

he went slimy with fright like a great, fat lob-worm. I swooped down on

him with my full weight, and pinned him to the floor. His big mouth opened

as he fought for breath, and I clapped the Virgil hard and far into it,

tying it tight in with my handkerchief, and gagging him effectually.

I looked up and found, to my relief, that Cherry-Cheeks, like a sensible

girl, had crept out of the room, and her share in the affair was never

even suspected.

Drawing my tuck, I touched the back of his neck with the point. He

flinched and squirmed, great drops of sweat larded his nasty face, and I

knew the fear of death and hell was in his marrow.

"Do exactly what I say," I whispered, "or through it goes. Understand?"

He could hardly nod his ugly head for the trembling of his body, and I

fairly dithered as I knelt on him. I made him rise, and then caught hold

of the skirt of his coat. Holding him by it at arm's length, I stuck my

point to his neck again, and said, "Forward."

I marched him downstairs and along the passage. There was great risk of

being met by some one, and it was the most anxious time I had had since

the affair with the sergeant in the house-place at the Hanyards. Oddly

enough, as I drove him along, the thought came to me of the bygone days

when Jack and I had played horses just like this at the Hanyards, and when

my prisoner stuck a trifle at the door of the guest-room, I growled at

him, "Come up!" It was a strange trick of the mind. To me he was just

play-horse Jack dawdling to look at ten-year-old Kate feeding her

chickens.

I got him in unseen without and unnoticed within, for the Colonel and

Master Freake were again at their arguments of state, hammer and tongs,

and they minded the click of the door behind them no more than the crack

of a spark at their feet. Indeed the Colonel said "Pish!" with great

vehemence, and Master Freake's "My dear sir!" had a shake of pepper in it.

As for me, I like a man who, when he gets into a thing, gets into it up to

the neck.

Margaret added to my amusement, for as I pricked my prisoner on into the

fire-light, and peeped over his shoulder, he being a good six inches

shorter than I, madam leaned forward and became absorbed in the high

debate.

"I beg to report, sir," said I, as indifferently as I could manage to

speak, "the capture of a spy."

"Hang him at daybreak," said the Colonel, without so much as looking at

him. "Pish, man, the trade in salted herrings is no more a nursery of

seamen than I'm--Damme, what's this, Oliver? Damme, it's Weir. Your

servant, Mister Weir, and I shall vastly relish seeing you strung up."

I gave a brief account of where and how I had found him, making no

mention of our helpful girl friend, but pointing out that he had

co-scoundrels at work for him in the inn.

"Another good piece of work, Oliver," said the Colonel. "I like the way

you use your available material. I've seen many things used as gags, but

not a book before; yet it makes a very good one. Keeps him quiet as a

stone and withal leaves him free to lick up a few crumbs of learning."

Margaret had not looked at me yet, and indeed seemed bent on keeping her

face, heightened in colour by the warmth and glow of the fire, turned away

from me. Now a rather big matter had come into my mind, so I said

urgently, "Name of a dog," and thus shook her into looking at me.

Whereupon, I pointed first to Mr. Freake, then to the spy, and wagged my

head sagely. Her quick mind saw at once that I was afraid that our friend

would be compromised if we were not careful. She promptly said something

to her father in an unknown tongue, and by the cock of his eye I knew he'd

taken the point.

"My good friend," he said, "pray step over to his worship the Mayor and

ask him to come over and commit this rascally spy to the town jail. Say, I

beg, that I am grieved to have to disturb him, but His Majesty's servants

must ever be at the disposal of His Majesty's affairs."

I grinned behind the spy's back at this masterly way of getting George's

servant to do James's work. Master Freake started at once, and, stepping

with him to the door, I whispered, "Give us fifteen minutes."

"Right!" he whispered back again. "Look in your holsters!"

As soon as he had gone, the Colonel ordered me to guard the door, and

this gave me the chance of putting on my boots again. The Colonel, cutting

off with his sword a good length of bell rope, made a swift and most

workmanlike job of tying the spy into a knot. He then opened the window,

and, Margaret taking my place meanwhile, he and I cautiously bundled Weir

on to the balcony, shut down the window, and left him safe and silent.

"Be in the porch in ten minutes, Margaret, ready to start. Oliver, get

the horses there ready in that time. You ride the troop-horse, and Freake

has provided a mare for Margaret. Quick's the work and sharp's the motion!"

Margaret and I started together to carry out our orders. Once in the

passage we had to go different ways, and I bowed and was going mine

without a word, when she put her hand on my arm and stayed me.

"I'm sorry you've lost your Virgil," she said.

I wondered, as already so many times I had wondered, at the somersaults

of feeling she was capable of. Where was now the Margaret of the short,

disdainful laugh? Not here, in the twilight between the bright room and

the black yard. Here was a subtle, mysterious Margaret, half regret and

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!"

I laughed lightly and was glad, for was not this calm, brave, splendid

woman thinking of how we two had met?

From the first cock of the sorrel's ears to this so characteristic remark

of Margaret's could not have been five minutes, and now, although owing to

the downward slope to our left I have mentioned, and its corresponding

slope to the right, neither body was yet in sight, they were so nearly on

us that differences between them became obvious. The southern troup was

small, was not travelling beyond a smart trot, and was, so far as the men

were concerned, absolutely quiet. The body from the north was large, was

forcing a hot gallop, and much noise and shouting came from the troopers.

It was plain that we were in for it. The men from Newcastle were no doubt

coming north as a reinforcement, but it was absurd to suppose that they

had not been told of our doings and of our escape northwards. They had not

overtaken us, and we must be on the road somewhere. The men from the north

had not met us. Never since the world began had two and two been easier to

put together. There was only one place for us to be in and this was it. A

short parley, a glance our way, and an overwhelming force would dash at

the picket of pines.

The bare road lay there in the moonlight, half a mile of it in clear view

on either hand. The two bodies came in sight within a few seconds of each

other, and the Colonel snapped his fingers and chuckled.

From the north a wild rush of spurring, flogging, shouting, cursing

horsemen, about a hundred of them. No order, no discipline, no

soldiership--nothing but mad haste and madder fear.

The mare began to plunge, and the Colonel, leaping off, nearly strangled

her in the coat. The sorrel got uneasy but gave me no real trouble. Sultan

took not the slightest notice of the din behind him, and leisurely cropped

the tough bussocks of grass at his feet.

I looked to the road again. The southern body was small, not more than a

score, compact, riding smartly but with military order and precision. The

man at their head, the officer in command, no doubt, spurred on and began

to shout at the oncoming northerners. He might as well have spoken fair

words to an avalanche, and the men behind him began to waver and most of

them pulled up. It was useless. The torrent swept into them and bore them

backward, tumbling some of them over, men and horses together, but

incorporating most of them in its own madness. In less than five minutes

the last batch of dragooners had cursed and spurred themselves out of

sight, and the bright moon shone down on a road once more bare and white

save for a few scattered patches of black.

The Colonel uncovered the mare's head and nuzzled her. All he said was,

but that very gleefully, "Geordie, my boy, I'll be routing you out of St.

James's within the fortnight. I'll learn you to neglect the King of

Sweden's Colonels! Damme, Oliver, it made me think of Pharaoh's kine--one

lot eating the other up. Now, sweetheart my Madge, we'll have your pretty

eyes a-bye-bye in no time."

"I never saw anything so funny in my life," said Margaret. "On with your

coat, Oliver, before you take cold."

From all of which I learned to take, as they did, the fat with the lean

in soldiering, and not to care a brass farthing which it was. Still, I was

as yet so young at the game, that, though I was careful to swagger it out

and say nothing, I did wonder why the body from the south was so small.

And I wonder as I write whether it was or was not the mistake of my life

merely to wonder then.