“There seems to be sorra the thing to do but stop here,” said Paddy Burk, “and make the best of it.”
Ben also felt that nothing else remained to do; but somehow he had a feeling that it would not be well. The idea of the two riders somewhere along the road came to him unpleasantly.
“But,” he thought, trying to shake the feeling off, “there is more to be feared afoot in the open road than there is in an honest public house.”
He must have spoken the last few words aloud, for the sharp-faced man held up the lantern until the rays fell full upon the lad’s face.
“Do you question the inn, sir?” he demanded, bristling. “It has had an honest name these many years. Drovers, farmers and all those going into and coming from the city have had bed and board here; and never was there one to say that a wrong was done him.”
“I say nothing against your house, good man,” said Ben. “For anything to the contrary I know, it may be the most perfect of inns.”
He gave his horse to the man, who led it to the barn. Ben and Paddy followed, and after stripping the saddle from the animal examined the leg. Finding that the strain was nothing serious, they rubbed it well, bound it and saw that both beasts were fed. Then they went into the inn.
It was a shabby sort of place, dusty and ill kept; but they were so situated that they could do nothing but make the best of it.
“What shall I get the gentlemen for their suppers?” inquired a huge, red-faced woman as she came rolling from an inner room. “We have some excellent ham, and some fowls well worth the price we ask for them. Try a pair, roasted, sirs; they are that tender and young that they’ll melt in your mouths.”
But both boys had eaten their evening meal, and said so.