“True enough. What do you propose?”
“I propose we take to the main road again, which must be near at hand on our left.”
“You forget we have no pass from Cromwell now. The lieutenant has it.”
“You will have a pass for yourself the moment you are north of Manchester, which cannot be more than fifty miles away. We must get over those miles as speedily as possible; therefore the main road is our route.”
“Yes, if it were practicable; surely danger lies thick along the main road.”
“I do not think so. While in the cathedral I heard troop after troop of men going northward. They will carry the news of your capture, but not of your escape. Until they beat in the door of the cathedral and search the place thoroughly, no messenger will be sent North. We are ahead of them once more, with the news of your capture travelling in front of us. We will keep ahead so long as we ride fast and until we stop somewhere for the night; then they having relays of horses, while we have only our own, will pass us. We cannot ride all night, or we shall kill our horses; but We can cover a good deal of the ground between here and Manchester. Once north of Manchester I think you are fairly safe. So I propose we ride now for the main road, and keep going as long as our horses are able to travel.”
“Agreed; but, following your own instructions, what are we to say when we are stopped? We have no pass, so how am I to account for myself?”
“You are a Roundhead soldier, sent on to Manchester by the colonel at Lichfield.”
“I look like a Roundhead soldier!” cried William, with a laugh.
“You will. It is always well to have some one in a travelling party who can think. Have you not noticed the load you carry behind your saddle?” Armstrong turned. The rising moon displayed a steel cap that looked like an overturned pot and a bundle of cloth, all neatly strapped on.