This Merrylips promised to do, most earnestly. She was a little frightened at the mere thought of this Captain Norris, of whom her big brother Munn seemed himself to be afraid. She found his very name fearful.
"Tibbott!" she repeated. "I never heard of any one that was called Tibbott."
"Why, no doubt he was christened Theobald," said Munn. "That is quite a common name, whereof Tibbott is a byname."
But Merrylips still thought Tibbott an odd name, so odd that she said it over to herself a number of times.
"Of our other officers," Munn went on, "the junior captain is called George Brooke. He loveth a jest and may well try to tease thee, but do not fear him. Neither do thou be too saucy and familiar, for he is shrewd and may guess that thou art not what thou dost seem. Miles Digby is his lieutenant, a rough companion and apt to bully, but I'll see to it that he try not his tricks with thee. And Brooke's cornet is one Nick Slanning, somewhat a braggart, but a good heart and will do thee no harm. That's our officers' mess at Monksfield, save for Eustace Crashaw, Captain Norris's lieutenant, and him thou soon shalt see, for we now are drawing nigh unto Storringham."
In the last moments they had left the shelter of the wood, through which Munn had prudently shaped their course. They now were riding over some low, bare hillocks. As they reached the top of one that was higher than the rest, they saw, right below them, a clump of trees, and rising through the branches were a shingled church spire and a number of thatched roofs. Over all, trees and spire and roofs, hung a murky film which thickened at the centre to a black smear.
"My life on't!" cried Munn. "Lieutenant Crashaw hath been smoking these pestilent rebels."
So saying, Munn put spurs to his horse, and at a round trot they swung down the hill into Storringham. Then they found that the smoke which they had seen came from a great pile of corn that had been heaped in the open space before the church, where four roads met, and set afire. Near by stood three great wains, heaped high with corn, and hitched each to six horses. Farther along, herded in one of the narrow roads, a drove of frightened cattle were plunging and tossing their heads.
Everywhere there were dismounted troopers. They herded the cattle, with loud shouts and curses. They piled corn upon the wains. They went at will in and out of the cottages, the doors of which stood open. Oftenest of all they went in and out of the largest cottage, which seemed a tavern, and when they came out, they were wiping their mouths on their sleeves.
In the midst of this hurly-burly, where men hurried to and fro, and cattle plunged, and horses stamped, and dogs barked, a little group of people stood sadly by the smouldering heap of wasted corn. They were village folk, Merrylips saw at once.