"And indeed, I would not have you out after dark," said Thomas Sprat. "The waste here harbors many vagrants—gypsies and the like, who bear none too good characters."
"I will go with you a part of the way, father," said Jack. "I suppose Simon can foot it a mile or so, and I will ride his beast and walk back."
"That can I, indeed, and will do so with a right good will," said Simon the journeyman, who, truth to say, was something the worse for his unusual equestrian exercise, if so it could be called, and who looked forward with no great pleasure to mounting his mule again. "I would gladly walk half the way back to Bridgewater."
In a short time the mules were saddled, the last good-bys said, and Jack and his father were riding soberly side by side on the road to Bridgewater, while Simon trudged after them on foot, keeping at such a distance as not to overhear their conversation, yet as near as was consistent with "manners." Their talk was of home matters and of the news of the town.
Jack begged his father to send him some of his books. This the old man at first flatly refused to do, saying that if Jack had his books he would spend his time poring over them and would soon be as bad as ever again; but upon farther entreaty, and on Jack's representation that he should have to be out of doors with the sheep all day, at any rate, and that he should forget all he had learned, his father so far gave way as to say he would consult Sir William about the matter, and if he thought best, the books should be sent; and with this promise Jack was fain to be content.
Presently they met and passed a man mounted on a serviceable riding hack, and followed by a mule loaded, as it seemed, with merchandise. The traveller was dressed like a merchant, and Jack did not fail to notice that he held a small book in his hand, which at their approach, he put into his pocket.
"There's a man after your own heart, son Jack," said the baker. "He reads as he travels along the highway. Good-day to you, sir!" he added, addressing the traveller as they came within speaking distance. "Methinks your horse must be a steady one, since he allows you to study upon his back."
The stranger smiled and bowed courteously. "My horse and I are old companions and well acquainted," he replied. "Nevertheless, I do not often make a reading chair of my saddle. I did but refresh my memory as to a passage on which my mind was running. May I crave to know if this is the road to Holford and the house of Sir John Brydges?"
"You are just in the road," said Jack, "but the knight is not at home. He went up to London the day before yesterday."
A shade of disappointment passed over the stranger's grave face. "Then we have passed each other on the road. I am very sorry, for my business is somewhat pressing. Do you know, my young sir, how long he will be gone?"