Scarce were they well inside it, when the hoof-strokes ceased to be heard. The horses had been suddenly pulled up; a colloquy ensuing.
“Hullo, Jerky!” it begun. “On your way from Monmouth market, I suppose?”
“Yes, yer honour; jist that.”
“But where’s your big sister? I’ve met you scores of times along the roads, though never without her. I hope there’s nothing amiss?”
“Oh! nothin’, sir. She be wi’ me now, close by, coming up the pitch, only ha’ legged a bit behint.”
“Well, Jack, I won’t detain you; as I must not be lagging myself. I want to reach Ross before the night’s on. Good-bye, old cadge!”
At which the dialogue came to an end, and the hoof-strokes were again heard, now coming close.
Only for a minute or so, when a second colloquy was entered upon, this time one of the voices being different.
Rob Wilde knew them both; had long ago recognised the one that held speech with the cadger, and had reason to feel keenly apprehensive as he listened. Far more now, as the words of the later dialogue dropped upon his ears.
“Old Timber-toes said his sister was just behind. I don’t see anything of her; and certainly she’s not one there should be any difficulty in making out—even at a league’s distance. Hey! what the deuce is that?”