"Ay, ay, down with them!" repeated their incautious leader, seizing Felgate's horse by the bridle and attempting to force it on its haunches.
His ill-advised action soon earned its reward, for Felgate struck him a heavy blow with the hilt of his sword, then, clutching at him as he fell, he backed his horse through the crowd till he reached the edge of the pond. Then with a mighty effort he flung the man into the slimy water, where he fell with a heavy splash. A moment later he reappeared, clambered to the bank, and made his way towards the village, cursing us at the top of his voice.
But the danger was not yet over, for the mob showed signs of a combined and active resistance. Fortunately we were together by the side of the pool, so that none of our attackers could get behind us.
"Draw your pistols and fire at the first man who steps forward!" said Felgate, loud enough for all to hear him.
At the sight of six levelled weapons the crowd drew back; then, satisfied that the cowards were properly cowed, Felgate jumped from his horse, made his way to the ducking stool, and cut the bonds that held the old crone to the chair.
Baulked of their prey, the mob still surged round us, and with a shout of: "Let 'em have the cat!" a great black object was sent flying towards us, and, striking my horse on the crupper, resolved itself into an enormous black cat, that spat and howled, digging its claws into the horse's hide, and arching its back like the demon cat that is the reputed companion of every witch.
A word from the old woman caused the animal to jump towards her, and, climbing on her shoulders, it mewed and purred with a fearsome delight.
Lifting the beldam to his horse, Felgate placed her pillionwise behind him. We closed in on either side, and, forcing our way through the mob, our pistols still pointed ominously at them, we gained the highroad once more, and trotted unmolested through the village of Liphook.
Now that the danger was past, Drake and I could not help laughing at our cavalier companion and his fair burden, for the hag had clasped him tightly round the waist with her skinny arms, while the cat, perched on her shoulders, was rubbing its head against the back of Felgate's plumed hat, so that it was being continually thrust over his eyes despite his frequent attempts to place it firmly on his head.
"How far do you journey with your gentle burden?" quoth Greville.