“Forward!” cried George, and he placed himself at the head of the column, and we moved steadily on in the dark, glad of the motion, for our blood was chilled with standing, and I, for one, thought less when I was moving, and the less I thought the better I was suited. ’Siah was in my company, and he, too, had a hammer, and well he knew how to use it. I took care he should not be far off me at all times. John Booth was in the rear, for he could use neither axe nor hammer, and pistols he would have nought to do with. As we marched along over the Moor, tramp, tramp, tramp, our feet falling pretty regular, and Soldier Jack sort of beating time for us by shouting “Left, right, left, right.” There was a bit of breeze by this, and it was none too warm, but my spirits were rising spite of John’s gloomy words and little as I liked the job. Every now and then George ran past me on his way down the ranks, and I could see his eye kindled and lit up with fire, for he had lost or thrown away his mask. Near the White Hart Inn, we halted; for here, if anywhere, we should be joined by the Leeds men; but there was neither sight nor sound of them.
“Shall aw go meet ’em an’ hurry ’em up, General?” asked Ben Walker.
“Noa, tha winnot, tha’ll stay here,” said Soldier Jack, before George could reply.
I saw George was a bit huffed at Jack’s putting his oar in so sharp, and he turned on him to say something Jack mightn’t have liked, but thought better of it and checked himself.
“We cannot very well spare thee, Ben, we mun send some’dy whose legs are more use nor his arms.”
“Send John Booth,” I whispered.
“Why John Booth?”
“Nivver mind, George, I’ll tell thee at after; send him.”
“‘Well, if it’ll pleasure thee.”
But John Booth wouldn’t go. When George ordered him he flatly refused, and would only say that he had come out to fight, and not to run errands. John was a favourite with the men, who liked his pluck, and wondered often to each other such a fiery spirit was to be found in so frail a body. So they bore him out in his refusal, and a young lad from Huddersfield, who had been, better at home with his mother, as indeed we should all have been, was packed off over the Moor, to hurry up the laggards. I heard afterwards he met them a mile away; but when they heard the sound of musketry and our hoarse cries as we dashed at the barriers that kept us from our prey, they fair turned tail and slunk off to bed again. Anyway we saw nought of them.