There every one seemed to be asleep except in a drinking saloon, whence came sounds of drunken revelry, and the bar room of the tavern where he put up. A light was burning there, but he avoided it attended to his horse himself, returning it to the precise spot where he had found it, then slipped stealthily up to his room, and without undressing threw himself upon the bed and almost immediately fell into a profound slumber.
Chapter Seventeenth.
"Abate the edge of traitors, gracious lord,
That would reduce these bloody days again,
And make poor England weep in streams of blood."
—SHAKESPEARE
The sun had just risen above the tree-tops as Solon led Beppo, ready saddled and bridled for his master's use, from the stables to the front of the mansion.
A moment later Mr. Travilla came out, gave some orders to the servant, and was about to mount, when his attention was attracted by the approach of a man on horseback who came cantering briskly up the avenue.
"Good morning," he said, as the stranger drew near. "Solon, you may hitch Beppo and go to your work."
"Good morning, Mr. Travilla, sir," returned the horseman, lifting his hat and bowing respectfully, as Solon obeyed the order in regard to Beppo, and with a backward glance of curiosity, disappeared around the corner of the building.
"You bring news, Martin?" said Mr. Travilla, stepping nearer to the stranger and looking earnestly into his face.
"Yes, sir and very bad, I'm sorry to say, unless," and he bent low over his saddle-bow and spoke in an undertone, "unless you can defend yourself against a band of thirty-five or forty ruffians."
"Fasten your horse to that post yonder and come with me to my private room," said Travilla, in calm, quiet tones.