“I crave a thousand pardons if my fellows have offered you a rudeness, sir,” says he, bowing to the ground. “Sergeant Strong, give way—get the troops together and call the roll.” He turned to us again as the big man moved off. “You will pardon my fellows, sir,” he says, looking very admiringly at Alison. “They are somewhat cock-a-whoop because of a trifling victory gained last night. So you are for Hull?” says he, seeming loth to say farewell to us.
“And are in much haste to get there, sir,” I says.
“I and my troops are for Beverley,” says he. “We go the same road as far as South Cave. Let me advise you to accept our escort—the enemy is in force across the river, and madam might find it unpleasant to fall into their hands. If you will accept our protection——”
“Why, sir,” says I, very impatient, “I thank you very heartily. But we are in great haste and must needs ride fast——”
“Your beasts seem spent now,” says he, with a sharp look at the horses. “I think our heavy cattle will match them.”
“Take his offer,” whispers Merciful at my elbow.
“In that case, sir,” says I, “I accept your offer gladly. I daresay we shall be the better of your protection.”
“It shall be willingly bestowed, sir,” says he, still mighty polite. “But since we do not start for an hour (I wait that space in order to join a troop that is riding to meet me at the ferry) I would advise you to give your horses a feed of corn and to refresh yourselves at yonder inn. The benefit will be yours, sir.”
Now, I had not bargained for any delay, being in a great anxiety to push forward, but I reflected that our beasts were weary, and that an hour’s rest would help them to bear the further strain to which we must needs subject them. I therefore dismounted, and having assisted Alison to alight, led her within the inn, leaving our horses to the care of Merciful Wiggleskirk, who lost no time in conducting them to the stables.