The arrival of the Governor on the ground caused but a momentary suspension of their boisterous mirth. Though a strict disciplinarian in a military sense, Massey was aught but puritanical, and rather liked seeing his soldiers enjoy themselves in a harmless way. Besides, he and Colonel Walwyn—who, hurrying after, had overtaken him—at once went inside the house, where dinner, already prepared, was awaiting them and the other officers.
Before sitting down to it, the Governor called for pen, ink, and paper, and writing to Sir Richard’s dictation, hastily scratched off a note, which he handed to the latter, as they exchanged some words in undertone.
The knight, on taking it, passed hurriedly out to see close to the door a horse under saddle and bridled with a trooper standing by his head. That he expected this was evident by his saying,—
“You can mount now. Take this to Coleford. Give it to Major Rowcroft,—into his own hands, mind you,—and stay there till he sends you back. Don’t spare your horse: ride whip and spur all the way.”
The soldier, an orderly, simply saluted as he took the folded sheet, then slipping it under his doublet, sprang to the saddle, and went off at a gallop through the gate.
The bivouackers, inside the courtyard and without, having commenced their Homeric repast, paid little heed to an incident so slight and of such common occurrence. They were more interested in the roast beef, with which the pastures around High Meadow House had provided them, and the beer drawn from its subterraneous depositories. Good store of sack had been found there too, with claret, metheglin, and other dainty drinks. But these were reserved for the officers, who, in a somewhat similar fashion, were making merry inside.
For the better part of an hour was the feasting kept up, amid jest and laughter, then, interrupted by the hoof-stroke of a horse in gallop, afar off in the Forest when first heard, but at each repetition louder and nearer, till at length the sound abruptly ceased.
All listening knew why. The fast-riding horseman, whoever he was, had pulled up by the out-picket, whose challenging hail could be faintly heard through the trees.
Time enough elapsed for the necessary parley and permission to pass on, when the trampling recommenced, and soon after horse and rider were in sight, still at a gallop, making direct for the gate of the fortified mansion.
Some who were expecting to see the orderly that had late ridden off saw a different man, though to many of them no stranger. A dragoon orderly too, but acting with the detachment at Coleford. His horse was in a lather of sweat, tossing clots of froth from the champed bit back upon his counter, as dashing in through the outer gate, he was drawn up at the house door.