They were soon near enough to the city gate to find many houses on either hand, and Sir Guy deemed it wiser to move at a reasonable pace, for fear of attracting suspicion in a neighborhood already aroused by rumors of the man-hunt which had begun. They could count upon the obscurity to conceal their identity.
They had not proceeded far beyond the inn when they met a party of travellers on horseback, one of whom uttered a pleasant "Good-even!"
"Good-even!" said Phœbe, thinking only of due courtesy.
"What the good jere!" cried a voice from the rear of the group. "What dost thou here, Poll?"
"My father!" exclaimed Phœbe, in terror.
"Hush!" whispered Sir Guy, putting his hand upon her bridle. "Ride forward at an easy gait until I give example of haste."
They trotted quietly past the greater number of the group until a dark figure approached and a voice in the gloom said, severely:
"What dost thou here? Who rides with thee, lass?"
Sir Guy now leaned forward and spurred his horse, leaping away into the darkness without a word. In equal silence Phœbe followed his example and galloped headlong close behind her lover.
"Help, ho!" yelled old Sir Isaac. "'Tis the traitor Fenton, with my daughter! After them—stop them—a Burton—a Burton!" and, mad with excitement, the angry father set off in hot pursuit. With one accord the others wheeled about and joined in the chase, uttering cries and imprecations that rang through the country for a mile around.