“You have gone too far,” I said, frowning. “The man is dying!”
“Not he,” the sergeant answered. “We did but give him an extra dance on air in case the way should slip his memory.”
He stooped as he spoke, and lifting the man’s body, propped him with his back against the stall; and picking up the bucket that lay beside the mare, he flung the contents upon his head. It had the desired effect. In less than five minutes the shadow faded from his face, his breathing grew more regular. Presently they raised him to his feet and—supported by a trooper on either side—he stood breathing heavily.
“Will you guide us now?” said the sergeant fiercely, “or must we string you up again?”
The man before us gave a slight gesture of assent. He was too far gone to speak.
“And play us no tricks,” the sergeant growled. “I have made better men speak than you, though they were heathen—aye, and be silent too!” And he passed his hand across his throat with a gesture there was no mistaking.
I waited a few minutes longer for the knave to recover himself and while they bound the old man to the head of the stall, where he stood mumbling incoherent curses; and then, thrusting the lantern into the steward’s shaking hand, guarded by the troopers on either side, we set out on our way. I had thought that the house lay close at hand, but this was not the case. Now that we were in the open air, the cold wind and the rain beating upon his bare head had a reviving effect upon the steward, and he led us unfalteringly through the darkness. He turned sharply to the right; and by the flickering light cast by the lantern, I could see that we were upon a broad gravel walk and that the trees on either side had given place to well-kept lawns and beds of flowers, over which the wind swept boisterously.
Suddenly the lantern swung to the left; and a moment or two later the sergeant rapped out an oath.
“What is the matter?” I said sharply.
“We have left the path!” he cried.