Lunnun too. One o’ the right sort—friend o’ the people. Besides, a soldier as ha’ seen foreign service, an’ is reckoned ’mong the best and kindest of men.”
“I think I know who ye mean, Rob. Ain’t it Sir Richard Walwyn?”
“That’s the man.”
“He wor at Hollymead fore he went away to the wars. I’ve seed him many’s the time. He used to often ride past our place, an’ always stopped to ha’ a word an’ a joke wi’ Jack. That makes me remember him; an’ if I beant mistook somebody else ha’ remembrance o’ him in a different way, an’ ain’t like ever to forget him.”
“Who?”
“One o’ the young ladies o’ Hollymead—the older ’un, Miss Sabrina. I ha’ heerd as much from the house sarvints theer.”
Just the shadow of a cloud had shown itself on Rob’s brow as Win commenced giving her reminiscences of the knight who had been visitor at Hollymead and used to crack jokes with Jerky. It passed off, however, ere her relation came to an end.
“Well, dear Win,” he said, speaking more tenderly from consciousness of having harboured an unjust suspicion; “they say Sir Richard be comin’ down to raise soldiers for the Parlyment. If that be so, one o’ the first to join him’ll be Rob Wilde; an’ maybe the biggest, if not best, in the fightin’ line.”
“You’ll be the best, Rob; I know you will. Who could equal you?”
At which she threw open her arms, then closed them around his neck, covering him with kisses.
In all probability, many soft words and much tender concourse would have succeeded this outburst of admiration. But the opportunity was not allowed them. Just then they heard a clattering of hoofs, horsemen coming down the road from Ruardean, at a gallop.
Rob, setting his ears to listen, could tell there were two of them, but nothing more—nothing to admonish him whether they were friends or enemies. But with the consciousness of having stolen deer and broken jail, twenty to one on their being the latter, reflected he. In any case prudence counselled him hiding himself, and letting the horsemen pass on.
His first impulse was to spring back up the bank, leaving the woman in the road. They could have nothing against her, whoever they were. But they were near now, still riding rapidly, and before he could scramble to the summit of the slope would be sure to see him. Just then, a hiding-place handier, and more easily accessible, came under his eye; a break in the bank just opposite, which he knew to be the entrance to an old limestone quarry, long abandoned. He would be safe enough in there, at least from observation by any one passing down the road. Whether or no, it was now Hobson’s choice with him; the trampling was louder and clearer; and but for an abrupt bend of the road above he could have seen the horsemen, as they him. No alternative, therefore, but to cut into the quarry; which he did—the woman with him.
Scarce were they well inside it, when the hoof-strokes ceased to be heard. The horses had been suddenly pulled up; a colloquy ensuing.
“Hullo, Jerky!” it begun. “On your way from Monmouth market, I suppose?”
“Yes, yer honour; jist that.”
“But where’s your big sister? I’ve met you scores of times along the roads, though never without her. I hope there’s nothing amiss?”
“Oh! nothin’, sir. She be wi’ me now, close by, coming up the pitch, only ha’ legged a bit behint.”
“Well, Jack, I won’t detain you; as I must not be lagging myself. I want to reach Ross before the night’s on. Good-bye, old cadge!”
At which the dialogue came to an end, and the hoof-strokes were again heard, now coming close.
Only for a minute or so, when a second colloquy was entered upon, this time one of the voices being different.
Rob Wilde knew them both; had long ago recognised the one that held speech with the cadger, and had reason to feel keenly apprehensive as he listened. Far more now, as the words of the later dialogue dropped upon his ears.
“Old Timber-toes said his sister was just behind. I don’t see anything of her; and certainly she’s not one there should be any difficulty in making out—even at a league’s distance. Hey! what the deuce is that?”
And Reginald Trevor again reined up. For it was he, with his servant.
“A basket, it appears to be, Captain,” answered the man, “with a bottle in it. Yes,” he added, after drawing closer, lifting it from the ledge, and peering into it. “Something besides the bottle—bread, cheese, and bacon.”
“Where there’s so much smoke there should be some fire,” reflected his master, who had halted in the middle of the road. Then, thinking it odd he saw nothing of the cadger’s sister, and noticing the gap leading into the quarry, it occurred to him she might be there. Partly out of curiosity, and partly from an intuition, which the basket of provisions had done something to inspire, he headed his horse at the opening and rode in.
Soon as inside, an exclamation rose to his lips, in tone which told of more than surprise. There was triumph, exultation, in it. For there saw he, not only the woman missing from the road, but a man, the same who had been for some time missing from Monmouth Gaol. The bushes in the old quarry were not thick enough, nor tall enough, to give either of them concealment; and they were standing erect, without further attempt at seeking it.
“Ho—ho! my giant,” cried the officer. “It’s here you are; making love to Jerky’s sister. And a pretty pair of love-birds too! Ha! ha! That explains the basket of eatables and drinkables. What a pity to interrupt your billing and cooing! But I must. So master Rob, deer-stealer and jail-breaker,” he added drawing his sword. “Come along with me! You needn’t trouble about bringing the basket. In the Lydney lock-up I’ll see to your being fed free of expense.”
“When you get me there,” rejoined Rob, in defiant tone, as he spoke pulling from under the breast of his doublet a long-bladed knife, and setting himself firm for defence.
This was unexpected by the King’s officer, who had not thought or dreamt of resistance. It was there, however, in sure, stern shape, and he felt himself committed to overcoming it. With a prick of his spur he sprang his horse forward, and straight at Rob, as though he would ride over him, his sword held ready for either cut or thrust.
But neither gave he, nor could. As the horse’s head came close to him, the Colossus lunged out with long arm, and sent the point of his knife into the animal’s nostrils, which caused it to rear up and round, squealing with pain. This brought its rider’s back towards the man who had pricked it; and before he could wheel again, Reginald Trevor was in the embrace of him he had jokingly called giant—realising that he had the strength of one, as he was himself dragged out of his saddle.
But they were not the only combatants in the quarry. For, following his master, the servant had made to assist him in his assault against the big man, taking no note of the big woman, or fancying she would not interfere. In which fancy he was sadly mistaken. For in scrimmage his back becoming turned upon her, as if taking pattern by Rob, she sprang up, caught hold of the lightweight groom, and jerked him to the ground, easily as she would have pulled a bantam cock from out one of the Jinkum’s panniers.
In less than threescore
