"Because like this you may be somebody else. In trousers, these blokes would shoot you on sight. My dear child," said Dick, "there are a good many men that could masquerade as women, but not one young woman in ten thousand can look anything but painfully ridiculous in a suit of dittoes."
Amaryllis was not quite sure whether or not to be offended, but remembered her hair, and was comforted.
The road now began to drop away in front of them so sharply that Tod had no work to do. A little further, and the slow trot, which gentle use of the foot-break had made possible, was reduced to a reluctant, pastern-racking walk, with slack traces and strained collar-chains for the wheelers; while the leader, too much at leisure, began to remember his loneliness.
And then, as they rounded an acute bend at the steepest point of the grade, Amaryllis saw below her, just beyond the bridge of grey stone from which their road began its ascent to the moor, a single ancient oak-tree, from the twisted trunk of which was stretched out across the by-road which followed the course of the bridged stream, that cruel, heavy arm, upon which in one day were hanged fifteen of Sir Thomas Wyatt's rebels in days popularly supposed merrier than ours.
Near the foot of this evil old tree, worthy of its huge bough, the girl saw the two men whose behaviour had offended Tod, pretending themselves occupied with some defect of side-car or cycle. By the time that Dick had brought his team within a hundred and fifty yards of the bottom, he could see that the interest of his two enemies had been diverted from their own vehicle to his: they stood erect with their backs to the oak, each hiding a hand in a right-side pocket.
Whether they had gathered matter of suspicion at "The Goat in Boots," whether they would dare, here in peaceful English country, so desperate an attempt as shooting him and Amaryllis as they passed the Dip, were questions Dick could not answer. But the goggles were down, masking the faces, while he and the girl, perched high on the box, made fine targets for a pair of Brownings.
He turned in his seat and spoke to his passengers, catching Dixon Mallaby's eye.
"Ah be goin' to show 'ee, sir," he said, "how three ornary hacks, rightly drove, can take a dip an' a rise, even with a load like you gentlemen makes. Howd tight."
Then to Amaryllis he said, with paternal tenderness:
"Don't you be fallin' off now, my dear. And grab t' rail, not me, when they bump into their collars."