“’Tis very good of you to do so,” says I, remarkably relieved, yet even more amused. “And now then follow me, sir, and I will take you into safety.”
But alas! we had tarried over long. Escape was now cut off. I had no sooner stepped outside the stable than I fled back in such a haste of fear that I nearly fell into the arms of the fugitive, who was obediently following. For the soldiers had arrived at last, and I could see them leading their weary horses across the yard in the very direction of this block of stables that we occupied.
“Up, up,” I whispered my companion, “into the manger, force the hay-trap and mount into the loft! Up, I say! Can’t you hear their feet upon the yard?”
“After you,” says he, “I would not have these men see you for the world.”
“Oh, what madness, boy!” I cried; “don’t you hear them coming? Another moment and you are ta’en. ’Tis you, not me, they’re seeking.”
“Madam, after you,” says he.
“Then I won’t,” says I; “I will not be badgered by anybody.”
’Twas then that this delightful youth acted in a way that I could never sufficiently admire. He drew up his form and looked upon me with all the majesty of six husbands made in one, and pointed with his finger to the trap. “Madam,” says he, in a terribly stern voice, “you will go up first, for I’m infernal certain I won’t!”
At another season I must have dallied to enjoy the situation; but, knowing that the life of so remarkable a boy depended wholly on my obedience, I went up willy nilly.
With his assistance, I had soon scrambled into the manger, and had been pushed most comically upwards through the trap; whilst he came on my heels with a cat’s agility, the pistol in his teeth. On the instant we composed ourselves in security in the straw, and in such a posture that we could enjoy a full view of the trap, peer down there through, and observe the movements of our enemies should they enter the lower chamber.