“Yes,” said his visitor, “the fresh night wind may revive us. But where got you this tobacco, did you say?”
“From Captain Gil,” replied Master Peasegood; and then, as they strolled out of the gate into the soft night-air, he continued, “My mind misgives me about that lad, father. What are we to do about him?”
“Warn him if he be in the way of ill, which I hope is not the case, for he is a brave, true lad, ready to help one of my faith in trouble. Many is the fugitive he has taken across to peace and safety in his ship.”
“For which, were it known, he would be most surely hanged or shot.”
Father Brisdone sighed.
“It is strange,” he said, “that we should become such Mends, Master Peasegood.”
“Ay, it is strange,” said the other; and feeling refreshed by the night-air they walked softly up and down conversing upon the political state of the country, the coming of King James’s messenger, and his stay at the Pool-house, till suddenly Master Peasegood drew his companion’s attention to a sound.
They were standing in a narrow path, running at right angles from a well-marked track; and as Master Peasegood spoke there was the snort of a horse and the rattle of harness, followed by much trampling; and, going a little forward, they could dimly see the figures of armed men by the light of lanterns which two of the horses carried at their head-stalls.
“Why, they are loaded with something, father,” said the stout clerk. “And, good—”
He was going to say “gracious,” but the words were checked upon his lips as a couple of heavy blankets were thrown over his and Father Brisdone’s heads and they were dragged heavily to the ground.