he added, without waiting for response, “I’ll put that out o’ yer power.”
Saying which, he caught up the officer’s sword, and broke it across his knee, at the same time releasing him. The blade of the attendant was treated likewise, and both master and man were permitted to rise to their feet, feeling vanquished as weaponless.
“You can take yourselves off,” sneeringly said the deer-stealer; “an’ as ye talked ’bout bein’ in Ross ’fore nightfall, you’ll do well to make quick time.”
Not a word spoke Reginald Trevor in reply, nor thanks for the mercy shown him. Too angry was he for that; his anger holding him speechless because of its very impotence. In sullen silence he regained the bridle of his horse—like himself having lost spirit by copious bleeding of the nose—climbed back into the saddle, and continued on down Cat’s Hill, his varlet behind him, both swordless, and yet more crestfallen than when they rode out through the gate of Hollymead Park.
“We’re in for it now, Win,” said Rob, to the cadger’s sister, after seeing them depart. “An’ we’ve got to look out for danger. I’m sorry ’bout you havin’ to share it; but maybe ’twon’t be so much, after all. Once Sir Richard gets here, an’ the fightin’ begins, as it surely must soon, trust me for takin’ care o’ ye.”
“I will—I do, Rob!”
And again the great arms were thrown around his neck, while upon his lips were showered a very avalanche of kisses.
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