“Yes, I did, but they seemed to have passed that when we lost sight of them.”
“Let me advise you to try it now,” said Selby.
“I will,” replied the officer, wheeling his horse round and galloping off, followed by his men.
“Now, friends, I have relieved you from the fire, as I promised,” said the Reverend Frank, turning to the shepherds; “see that you don’t get into the frying-pan again. Whether you deserve hanging or not is best known to yourselves. To say truth, you don’t look like it, but, judging from appearance, I should think that in these times you’re not unlikely to get it. On with your coats and plaids and be off as fast as you can—over the ridge yonder. In less than half-an-hour you’ll be in Denman’s Dean, where a regiment of cavalry would fail to catch you.”
“We shall never forget you—”
“There, there,” interrupted the Reverend Frank, “be off. The troopers will soon return. I’ve seen more than enough of hanging, quartering, and shooting to convince me that Presbytery is not to be rooted out, nor Prelacy established, by such means. Be off, I say!”
Thus urged, the fugitives were not slow to avail themselves of the opportunity, and soon were safe in Denman’s Dean.
“Now, Lawless,” said the Reverend Frank in a cheerful tone, “my conscience, which has been depressed of late, feels easier this evening. Let us go in to supper; and remember that no one knows about this incident except you—and I. So, there’s no chance of its going further.”
“The two rebels know it,” suggested Lawless.
“No, they don’t!” replied the other airily. “They have quite forgotten it by this time, and even if it should recur to memory their own interest and gratitude would seal their lips—so we’re quite safe, you and I; quite safe—come along.”