Mr. Justice Whistler now consulted gravely with Bolland in regard to the road; and, taking one of the constables for their guide, they determined to proceed about thirty miles that night, and accomplish the rest upon the following day. They were, however, deceived in regard to the distance. At the end of thirty miles, they found no town, nor place of repose of any kind, and they were, consequently, obliged to ride on till they got on the first soft slopes of those wild hills which we have elsewhere described.
Mr. Justice Whistler began to grumble seriously at the length of way; Bolland declared that he was nearly knocked up; and one of the constables avowed that he saw the grey streaks of the morning resting on the tops of the hills, which would serve at least to show them their way, for they were at this time immured in the darkness of high hedges and narrow wooded lanes. At that moment, however, a loud voice before them called, "Stop!" and Bolland, at once recognizing the voice of Franklin Gray, turned his horse's head, and galloped off as hard as he could go.
The rest would most likely have followed his example, had not the same voice vociferated, "Stop them there, Harvey! Do not let them go!" and four or five men, leaping their horses over the hedge, cut off the retreat of Mr. Justice Whistler and the constables, while one of them fired a pistol down the lane after the retreating figure of Bolland, which was followed by a sharp, sudden cry. But the horse's steps were still heard galloping onward. The flash of the pistol had afforded sufficient light, however, to show Mr. Justice Whistler that resistance was vain, though he was a courageous and determined man, and would have made it gallantly if there had been even a hope of success. Such not being the case, however, he determined rapidly what to do, but determined, unfortunately for himself, upon wrong grounds.
Remembering nothing but the awe with which his name and presence inspired the petty plunderers of the metropolis, he resolved to announce himself and all his terrors in good set form, and to endeavour to frighten from their purpose those who stopped him. In the meanwhile, however, the leader of the party threw back the shade of a dark lantern, and poured the light thereof full upon the justice and his followers, and he demanded, "What are you doing here at this hour? What is your name, and what is your errand?"
"Let me pass, in the King's name, I command you," said the justice. "My name is Whistler, and I am one of his Majesty's justices of the peace for ----." "Oh, you are Mr. Justice Whistler, are you?" replied the other. "Worthy Mr. Justice, who are those two men behind you? They seem not of your own condition."
"We are only two poor constables from the town of ----," replied the men, choosing to speak for themselves, and in a humbler tone than that which the justice had thought fit to use. "We are two hard-working men, with small families, and are forced to do our duty."
"These are not any of those we sought," said Franklin Gray to one of his followers. "Let these two poor fellows go; but strip me this justice here to his skin. Take every sous he has in his pocket, and then tie him to a tree and give him a hundred lashes with the stirrup leather, as hard as you can lay it on. I will not take his life, though I should like to give him one lash for every false and villanous act he has committed, for every innocent man he has sent to prison, to the stocks, the pillory, or the parish beadle. One lash for each, however, would cut him to pieces; so give him a hundred, and let him go."
The commands thus issued were punctually obeyed; and while the justice shouted loudly under the infliction, which was administered in the neighbouring field, Franklin Gray went on addressing the man Harvey, sometimes commenting upon what was going on near, sometimes speaking of other subjects.
"They know we are on the look-out," he said; "and they will not stir so long as that is the case. How the beast roars! Yet you say they must be in this neighbourhood, for you traced their footsteps clearly. Those fellows love flaying a justice in their hearts; I can hear the lashes they give him even here. But we had better ride home now, and change our quarters soon. There, there, that will do. There, my men, stop. You will kill him, if you don't mind. Put his vest upon his fat back, turn his face to the horse's tail, and send him cantering down the lane."
Every tittle of Franklin Gray's commands was executed to the letter; and Mr. Justice Whistler, still writhing with the pain of the stripes he had received, was partly clothed once more, and set upon his beast again. His face, however, was turned in the contrary direction to that which it usually assumed in relation to the animal that bore him, and his feet being thrust through the stirrups, a few smart blows were added to send the charger off. Happily for the preservation of the justice's equilibrium, the horse was weary, and, even in its most frisky moods, was a quiet, good sort of beast; so that, after having jolted him in a hard trot for about three hundred yards, it began to slacken its pace, gradually dropped into a walk, and finally stopped to crop a scanty breakfast from the herbage by the side of the road.