Gilbert Crosby found himself in strange company. No sooner had this
queer fiddler learned that search had been made at "The Jolly Farmers"
than he refused to give any information, or listen to any explanation,
until they had put some distance between themselves and the inn. He
hurried out of the house, and in a few minutes returned with the
information that he had two horses waiting in the wood behind. Crosby's
mount was a good enough looking animal which seemed capable of carrying
him far if not fast; his companion's horse was so lean and miserable
that it seemed to bear a resemblance to the fiddle which Fairley had
slung by a string across his back. In spite of its ill-condition Crosby
wondered whether it would not be too much for the musician, who mounted
awkwardly and seemed so intent on keeping his seat that he was not able
to talk. He had grown more accustomed to the animal by the time they
came out on to the high road. They had travelled chiefly at walking
pace, by rough paths, and through woods where the tracks would have been
difficult to find even in the daytime, and impossible at night save to
one who knew them intimately.
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