When he came to the toll-gate, as once before, he cleared the bar with a bound, and dashed onward, to the infinite indignation of old Andy who had just opened his shutters in time to witness the feat, and who turned to his old wife, then busy over the fire cooking the breakfast, and then exclaimed:
“Eh, Jenny, woman! the warlocks are flitting back frae the witches’ Sabbath. There gaed are noo!—on a broomstick, or something unco like it, right over the toll-gate bar and awa’! We’ll hear the news the day, woman!”
Heedless of what the guardian of the road might think of him, Dick raced on, sending flakes of mud from his horse’s heels.
The sun was rising behind the farthest range of mountains, and sending his dazzling beams obliquely through the Wild Gap and athwart the Wild River, as Dick rode into Saulsburg and drew rein before the picturesque inn.
He had not the slightest idea whereabouts in the village or its neighborhood the country doctor lived.
So he inquired of the hostler who came to take his horse:
“Do you know where Dr. Leech hangs out?”
“I dunno where he hangs out, sir; but you can ax him hisself. He lives right down the street there, sir,” answered the man, pointing to a small, neat cottage, with a still smaller surgery beside it, and the name of “Leech” over the door.
Dick left his horse and went and knocked up the doctor, and, in a few urgent words, told him his services were instantly needed at Old Lyon Hall, where there was a lady in extremity, and entreated him to hasten immediately to her relief.
The good doctor needed no second bidding, but loudly called to shop-boy and horse-boy to have his saddle-bags and his horse got ready, and then rushed into the house to put on his great-coat and hat.