It did not, therefore, prove poltroonery on his part, when, proceeding along the road, his heart beat slightly with apprehension,—no more, when on perceiving the figure of a horseman dimly outlined under the shadow of the trees, he suddenly came to a halt, and hesitated to advance.
The horseman was about a score of paces from where he had stopped—moving neither one way nor the other, but motionless in the middle of the road.
“A highwayman!” thought Walter, undecided whether to advance, or ride back.
“But no, it can scarce be that? A robber would not take stand so conspicuously. He would be more likely to conceal himself behind the trees—at least until—”
While thus conjecturing, a voice fell upon his ear, which he at once recognised as the same he had late heard so emphatically pronouncing “The People!”
Reassured, the young traveller determined to advance. A man of such mien, as he who bestrode the black steed—and actuated by such a sentiment, as that he had so boldly announced—could scarcely be a disreputable person—much less a highwayman? Walter did not wrong him by the suspicion.
“If I mistake not,” said the stranger, after the preliminary hail, “you are the young gentleman I saw, a short while ago, in rather scurvy company?”
“You are not mistaken: I am.”
“Come on, then! If you are my only pursuer, I fancy I shall incur no danger, in permitting you to overtake me? Come on, young sir! Perhaps on these roads it may be safer for both of us, if we ride in company?”
Thus frankly solicited, the young courtier hesitated no longer; but, pricking his horse with the spur, rode briskly forward.