I turn’d away, pondering. Two days on the road had put me sadly out of conceit with myself. For mile upon mile I trudged, dragging the horse after me by the bridle, till my arms felt as if coming from their sockets. I would have turn’d the brute loose, and thought myself well quit of him, had it not been for the saddle and bridle he carried.
’Twas about five in the evening, and I still laboring along, when, over the low hedge to my right, a man on a sorrel mare leap’d easily as a swallow, and alighted some ten paces or less in front of me; where he dismounted and stood barring my path. The muzzle of his pistol was in my face before I could lay hand to my own.
“Good evening!” said I. “You have money about you, doubtless,” growled the man curtly, and in a voice that made me start. For by his voice and figure in the dusk I knew him for Captain Settle: and in the sorrel with the high white stocking I recognized the mare, Molly, that poor Anthony Killigrew had given me almost with his last breath.
The bully did not know me, having but seen me for an instant at “The Crown,” and then in very different attire.
“I have but a few poor coins,” I answer’d.
“Then hand ’em over.”
“Be shot if I do!” said I in a passion; and pulling out a handful from my pocket, I dash’d them down in the road.
For a moment the Captain took his pistol from my face, and stooped to clutch at the golden coins as they trickled and ran to right and left. The next, I had struck out with my right fist, and down he went staggering. His pistol dropped out of his hand and exploded between my feet. I rush’d to Molly, caught her bridle, and leap’d on her back. ’Twas a near thing, for the Captain was rushing toward us. But at the call of my voice the mare gave a bound and turn’d: and down the road I was borne, light as a feather.
A bullet whizz’d past my ear: I heard the Captain’s curse mingle with the report: and then was out of range, and galloping through the dusk.