“Go on it is, gen’lemen; give the old donkey the spur, if he won’t go.”
The long passage was slowly traversed, and then began the toilsome ascent of the stairs leading to the oak chamber, poor Nat being very feeble, and Fred’s task hard; but the top was reached at last, and the soft fresh night air blew freely upon the rescuers’ heated brows, as, under Scarlett’s guidance, they crossed the little room to the corner where the wall had fallen away.
Here greater difficulties began in the getting down to the level of the ground floor, stones giving way, and the darkness adding to the difficulty. Once there was quite a little avalanche of calcined material; but perseverance won, and all stood safely at last on the trampled lawn in front of the ruined Hall.
“Shall we let them rest here for a bit?” whispered Fred.
“No, Master Fred, sir; they must rest on the horses’ backs. Come on; they’re not fifty yards away.”
A low whinny from one of the faithful beasts followed this speech, and the party listened in dread that the sound might have been heard.
“Come on, sir,” whispered Samson; “heard or no, now’s our time;” and he walked quickly to where the horses were tethered, with the others close behind. “Now, sir,” he said in a whisper, “I’ve got to get you on that horse. If you can put a leg over, do. If you can’t—”
Answer came in the shape of a brave effort on Sir Godfrey’s part, and the next instant he was sitting erect on the horse’s back.
“Hooroar!” whispered Samson. “Now t’other one. Foot in my hands like a lady. Nat, old chap. Ready? Up you go. That’s brave. Yah! I forgot as we was enemies. Come along. You lead him, Master Fred, as you would bring him along.”
“Can you walk all right, Scar?” whispered Fred.