All this and more—for of the doings of the outer world I had but scanty news—he told me as we rode; so that it was with surprise I found that we had reached the outskirts of the village. A deep frown gathered on the colonel’s face as at our appearance the troopers hastened from the houses.
“The rogues grow lazy,” he said grimly. “I will promise them no lack of work between here and Plymouth.”
“Plymouth?” I said inquiringly.
“Aye,” he answered quickly. “Do you suppose that I can leave three-score troopers rotting here when every man is needed in the south?”
“But——” I began in some dismay.
“There is no ‘but’ about it,” he said impatiently. “My orders are strict. Nevertheless, I will strain a point in your favour. You shall have a dozen men.”
“A dozen men?” I cried incredulously—“a dozen men to guard this place?”
“And that is ten too many,” he replied. “What? Are you afraid of a set of country clodpoles, who could not tell a sabre from a scythe?”
“Yet even a scythe may form a dangerous weapon, as Sedgemoor proved,” I said tartly.
“Bah!” he replied contemptuously. We were dismounting in the courtyard of the inn as he spoke. “’Tis not like you, Cassilis, to reckon odds. A pity, indeed, if a dozen men cannot order a parcel of beer-swilling clowns, who would scuttle to their burrows fast enough at the snapping of a pistol. But who the devil have we here?”