“Nay, I know every turn in the woods; I can run home.”
“Sore uneasy should I be for thee. Ah, see, the rogues appear, they heard the shot.”
About half-a-mile along the road, moving forms rapidly running towards them might be obscurely discerned as they turned a crest of the hill.
“Jump behind, thou canst ride ‘pillion.’”
Cuthbert complied, and Sir John spurred his horse and galloped along the lower road; even then, by cutting across a shoulder of the hill, the Gubbings, as Cuthbert called them, gained upon them and shot two or three useless arrows, and then they could do no more, for the road lay straight forward, and they had no further advantage.
After a little while Sir John said—
“I think we may now take our ease; thou hast saved my life, lad, and I shall not forget it. What is thy name?”
“Cuthbert Trevannion; and thine, sir?”
The rider started perceptibly as he heard the name, and Cuthbert noticed it. After a moment he said, with emphasis—