The sound of the horses’ hoofs died away in the distance; then Nicholas returned to the house place, and the three hunted men came out of hiding.
“That was a close shave, Nicholas,” said Humphrey Neal, shaking the old man’s hand gratefully. “Thanks to your ready wit we are safe, but we must press forward without delay or these wolves will be the death of us yet.”
“Where do you escape to, sir?” asked Nicholas.
“To London,” said Gabriel. “There will be a warm welcome for Mr. Neal at Notting Hill Manor, the home of my grand dame. ’Tis thanks to him I have escaped.”
“Thanks to your own courage,” said Humphrey. “But we will hasten on, Nicholas, without delay, and at Watlington I will get old Parslow to speed us on our journey.”
Nicholas with many good wishes bade them farewell, and, taking the precaution of leaving the road, they went across country, shortening the distance and running less risk of capture.
“I have hunted so often in this part of the country that I know every inch of the ground,” said Humphrey, as he pioneered his two companions across the snowy fields and frozen brooks. “’Tis not so pleasant a matter, though, to be hunted oneself, especially on foot. Perhaps at Watlington we can get a mount from Parslow, he is the landlord of the ‘Hare and Hounds,’ and I’ve known him all my life.”
The bitter wind blew in their faces as they toiled on; and, at length, Sandy began to whimper that he could go no farther. They tried their utmost to cheer the lad.
“We shall soon be at Watlington,” said Humphrey, “and I’ll get Parslow to give you a berth as stable boy; you shall be as happy as a King, and maybe happier, with plenty to eat and a motherly old cook who’ll see you’re not bullied. Oh! you’ll think yourself in paradise after the life you’ve led with Aaron.”
Sandy grinned placidly, but soon remarked again that he was “cruel footsore.”