"That have I," answered Jack; "and I dare say you and these good fellows will not be the worse for a can of ale to wet your throats."
"Not a whit! Not a whit!" answered the sumner. "Here, good host! What! Are you all asleep there?"
The host presently appeared at the door, all deference to the great man, who was not an infrequent customer. The party alighted, and Jack soon had a good breakfast set before him, while his guards were accommodated with foaming pots of ale. Jack was not much disposed for food, but he made the best figure he was able, and the ale being discussed, he asked the landlord if he had no strong waters, remarking that cold ale was sometimes thought unwholesome to horsemen. The medicine was produced, and a goodly dose swallowed by each of the patients with little reluctance. Jack paid the reckoning liberally, and the party were again on their way.
They were approaching a thick wood on the borders of Lord Harland's estate, when Jack bethought himself of a grisly tale of murders and ghosts he had once heard of this same wood, and asked the sumner with an appearance of interest, whether the tale were true. The man had never heard it, and Jack repeated it at considerable length. This brought on another story of robbers relating to the same place, and then another.
The sun had now sunk pretty low, and the road bordered by woods on one side, and on the other by a desolate hillside, was in deep shadow. Jack remarked how dismal the wood looked, and how deep the shadows were. The sumner assented, and started nervously and crossed himself, as the hooting of an owl was heard among the trees, which was answered by another voice farther on.
"Avaunt Satan!" exclaimed the sumner, crossing himself once more. "Who ever heard owls so early in the day?"
"They are birds of ill-omen, and haunt places where foul deeds have been committed," said Jack, his heart beating fast. "I trust we shall meet with no evil creatures in this lonely place."
"Speak not of it," said the sumner in great agitation. "There again!" as the hooting of the owl sounded nearer. "Santa Maria, ora pro nobis! I would I could remember a psalm or a prayer!"
At this moment, and just as they were arrived at the darkest part of the road, three or four men well-armed and masked rushed from the wood and confronted them, seizing the bridle of Jack's horse and commanding them all to stand. The sumner and his men, confused, half drunk, and wholly frightened, did as they were bid.
"By what authority do you stop men on the highway?" asked the sumner in a quivering voice.