“Never you mind till the time comes! I have a sort of prescient idea that some day we shall face that fellow again with the circumstances reversed; and then I’m going to have his loot cleared out.”
And this and much more as the fugitives cantered easily along through the darkness, giving their ponies their heads and letting them increase the distance more and more, till all at once West broke the silence by exclaiming: “I say, Ingle, is it really true?”
“Is what really true—that Master Anson’s a fat beast?”
“No, no; that we have escaped and are riding away at full liberty to go where we please? It seems to me like a dream, and that in the morning we shall awake and find ourselves once again in that dreary wagon.”
“Partly true, partly imaginary,” said Ingleborough bluntly.
“What do you mean?” said West, in a startled tone.
“It’s true that we’ve made a jolly clever escape, thanks to you; but it isn’t true that we’re at liberty to go where we like.”
“Why not?” said West wonderingly.
“Because you’ve got that despatch in your jacket somewhere, I hope.”
“Yes,” said West, after running his hand down a seam. “It’s safe enough!”