“Then they are not good Christians, for they are told to resist the Devil and he will flee from them. You think, then, that my fiendish character will protect me?”
“Not so; but you have nothing to fear between here and Carlisle. I thought you said De Courcy had been killed?”
“He went down, and I supposed him shot, but was in too much of a hurry to inquire.”
“He and others rode to the North last night, and they are now between us and Carlisle.”
“He has as many lives as a cat. If that is the case, why do you say the road to Carlisle is clear?”
“Because from Carlisle to Newcastle, right across England, the cordon is to be stretched, and from Carlisle west to the coast. Before we can reach there; a line of men, almost within touching distance of each other, will extend from sea to sea, and all traffic North will be stopped. A thousand pounds is on your head, and Cromwell thinks to stay you, not with silver, but with gold. The General himself is on his way North, to see that you are trapped, or to be ready for any outbreak of the Scots should you win through.”
“I fear I have been unable to convince Oliver that I am the devil, since he takes such excellent human means of frustrating me. A thousand pounds! And yet you held that first day I was of slight value!”
“I have confessed my error since. The camp I visited is breaking up to-day, and moving on to Carlisle. Twenty-three thousand men, I was told, but, being mostly foot, there is no chance of their overtaking us.”
“Well, the North looks black with more than rain, though goodness knows there is enough of that. I wish I were in Glasgow.”
“What do you propose to do?”