In
another moment a man, leading a horse, came out of the gloomy shadows
into the clearing.
"Master Gilbert! Master Gilbert! You're late. Thank God you're back once
more. I've a hare in the pot which begins to smell excellently."
"I'll do justice to your cooking, Golding, never fear. I'll look to the
mare first; she's had a trying day."
He led the animal into the small shed, and for some time was busy making
her comfortable for the night.
"Ah! the smell is appetising," he said as he joined Golding, "and I am
ravenous."
"And in good spirits, surely."
"Yes, we baulked them again, Golding. Yesterday afternoon we made in the
direction of Witley, and had as narrow a squeak of capture as I want to
experience. A troop was before us on the road, and one fellow with the
eyes of a lynx sighted us. The poor fellow I was helping was a bit of a
coward--no, I won't call him that, but constantly being hunted had taken
the heart out of him, and he was inclined to give up the struggle. I
urged him on, and we made for Witley, openly, and as if we were
confident of a hiding-place in the town. Fortune favoured us, and we
pulled up short in a hollow, the troop riding by us in desperate haste.
Pages:
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290