"Why can't you fetch out the horse-boat?"
"Because, my son, I ben't the proper ferryman. You must ride back up the hill if you want he; and even so, I doubt he'll have to knock up the folks at Hall to get at the keys."
Mr. Tregenza broke out into impatient swearing on all who delayed travel on the king's highway.
"You may leave your curses, young man, to them with a better right to use 'em. Thank the Almighty there's a boat to put you across. Hosken's blue boat it is; you'll find her ready to launch, down 'pon the slip. Take her and pull for the doctor. Tell 'en 'tis no use his bringing a horse, for there's no boat to fetch a horse over. But there's Tank's grey mare up to the inn. I'll have her ready saddled for him, if he'll promise to ride steady and mind the sore 'pon her near shoulder."
All the village had heard the midnight gallop of hoofs; all the village had guessed accurately who the rider was, and why he rode. But Nicky's dismissal was known to a few only. Soon after daybreak the news of this spread too, with the circumstance that only Nicky's good-nature had kept clear the king's highway for a message which above all others needs to be carried with speed.
Nicky sat complacent off the ferry-slip in Hosken's blue boat when the new ferryman arrived (twenty minutes late, by reason of his having to fetch the keys from Hall), and stolidly undid the padlock fastening the official craft.
"Aw, good-mornin'!" Nicky hailed him.
"Mornin'," said the new ferryman.
"We're in opposition, it seems."
"Darned if I care." The new ferryman lit his pipe and spat. "My name's Elijah Bobe."