Hardly had they gained the hamlet of Hedge End than the sky became overcast, and a dark, leaden-coloured cloud began to drive rapidly against the light westerly wind. Then, Nature's sure warning, the air became sultry and motionless, while even the birds ceased singing in anticipation of the coming storm.
"'Twill thunder ere long," said Oswald. "Ought we not to find shelter in one of these cottages? Our velvet cloaks are but a bad protection from the weather, and 'twould not do to appear before Sir Thomas like two bedraggled varlets."
"It is my mind to push on," replied Geoffrey. "Perchance we may escape the storm. See yon cloud bids fair to pass behind us."
"Then as thou wilt, but it behoves us not to spare spur," replied his companion, urging his horse into a sharp trot.
On and on they rode, Oswald casting anxious glances at the approaching cloud, while ever and anon the low rumbling of distant thunder was borne to their ears. Then a few heavy drops began to fall.
"Thou art right; we are fairly caught," exclaimed Geoffrey. "Were we campaigning in France 'twould matter but little, but since we may have to attend the Constable when he is received in audience by the King, it behoves us to take care of our apparel. I see a cottage yonder; can we but gain it all will be well."
As he spoke Oswald's horse tripped on a mole-hill, and with a crash its rider fell to the earth. Fortunately, the soil was soft, and with nothing more than a shaking the young squire rose to his feet.
"Art hurt?" asked Geoffrey anxiously, as he leapt from his saddle.
"'Tis naught; but alas! my horse."
Oswald's exclamation called his companion's attention to the animal. The fall had broken one of its fore-legs, but without as much as a whinny the poor beast stood motionless. Instinct seemed to tell it that its days of usefulness were numbered.