"Eh! it be about zeven mile, zur," was the answer, in the broad Yorkshire dialect of the district.
"Seven miles!" exclaimed the major, in a tone of deep disappointment, "and my horse is already blown! My good fellow, can't you put my horse somewhere, and give me a bed? I will pay you liberally for your trouble."
"Eh! goodness zakes!" said the rustic. "I be nought but a ditcher! There be noa plaze to put the nag in, and there be only one room and one bed in the cot."
"What shall I do?" cried the major, at his wits' end.
"I'll tell 'ee, zur," said the rustic, scratching his head violently, as if to extract his ideas by the roots. "There be a voine large house on the road, about a moile vurther on. It's noa an inn, but the colonel zees company vor the vun o' the thing—'cause he loikes to zee company about 'un. You must 'a heard ov him—Colonel Rogers—a' used to be a soger once."
"Say no more," cried the major. "I have heard of this hospitable gentleman; and his having been in the army gives me a sure claim to his attention. Here's a crown for your information, my good friend. Come, Marlborough!"
Touching his steed with the spur, the major rode off, feeling an exhilaration of spirits which soon communicated itself to the horse. A sharp trot of a few minutes brought him to a large mansion, which stood unfenced, like a huge caravansery, by the roadside. He made for the front door and, without dismounting, plied the large brass knocker till a servant in livery made his appearance.
"Is your master up?" asked the major.
"I am the occupant of this house," said a venerable gentleman, making his appearance at the hall door.
"I am a benighted traveller, sir," said the major, touching his hat, "and come to claim your well-known hospitality. Can you give me a bed for the night? I am afraid my four-footed companion is hardly able to carry me to the next inn."