He gave the man a violent kick with the toe of his boot. The man groaned, stretched himself, turned over and rubbed his eyes. The light of the swinging lanthorn showed him the wrathful face of his employer. He struggled to his feet very quickly after that.
"Stir yourself, man," cried Martin-Roget savagely, as he gripped the fellow by the shoulder and gave him a vigorous shaking. "Bring the horses along now, and don't keep me waiting, or there'll be trouble."
"All right, Mounzeer, all right," muttered the man placidly, as he shook himself free from the uncomfortable clutch on his shoulder and leisurely made his way out of the porch.
"Haven't you got a boy or a man who can give that lout a hand with those sacré horses?" queried Martin-Roget impatiently. "He hardly knows a horse's head from its tail."
"No, zir, I've no one to-night," replied the woman gently. "My man and my son they be gone down to Watchet to 'elp with the cargo and the pack-'orzes. They won't be 'ere neither till after midnight. But," she added more cheerfully, "I can straighten a saddle if you want it."
"That's all right then—but...."
He paused suddenly, for a loud cry of "Hallo! Well! I'm ..." rang through the night from the direction of the rear of the house. The cry expressed both surprise and dismay.
"What the —— is it?" called Martin-Roget loudly in response.
"The 'orzes!"
"What about them?"