“Then, Paddy, you’ve kept your promise, for unless I am greatly mistaken, I am that person.”
Paddy uttered a surprised exclamation.
“Now then, look at that,” said he. “Faith, it’s a thick head I have entirely not to think of it myself. And so,” with great concern in his voice, “it’s you they are riding to overtake?”
“I suppose,” said Ben, evading this question, “that you did not gain a very good view of them?”
“I did not,” admitted the Irish lad, “for it were a part of the road which were overhung by great trees, and sorra a ray of moonlight fell upon them. But both of them were of good size, I could see that, and they sat their horses like men used to the work.”
In a very little while the two lads reached a section not far from Germantown known as Rising Sun; and it was here that Ben’s horse, having been hard pressed all the day, suddenly showed symptoms of lameness. At a little public house, which showed a glint of light in one of the windows, they dismounted, and Paddy thundered at the door. After a few moments it opened and a man came out, holding a light above his head. He was a small man with a lean, crafty face and sharp eyes.
“What’s wanted?” he asked in an angry tone. “What’s this knocking, sirs, at this time of night?”
“My horse has gone lame,” said Ben. “I want to leave him here to be cared for, and engage another to finish my journey to Germantown.”
“You may leave your horse if you care to,” said the man. “But as for giving you one to replace it, that is more than we can do. We have but one, and that’s in the city to-night, gone with a load of vegetables.”
“What shall we do?” said Ben to his companion. “I can’t torture my good beast by forcing him further.”