"Soldiers!" said Sophie. "What can bring them this way?"
"It's the farmers coming the same way as Reuben for protection's sake these winter nights, child."
"Protection?"
"Haven't you heard of the highwaymen about, and how a single traveller is never safe in these parts? Or a double one either—or—"
"Perhaps these are highwaymen."
"Oh, good gracious! Let us get indoors and bar up," cried Mrs. Tarne, wholly forgetful of Reuben Pemberthy's safety after this suggestion. "Yes, it's as likely to be highwaymen as soldiers."
It was more likely. It was pretty conclusive that the odds were in favour of highwaymen when, five minutes afterward, eight mounted men rode up to the Maythorpe farm-house, dismounted with considerable noise and bustle, and commenced at the stout oaken door with the butt-ends of their riding-whips, hammering away incessantly and shouting out much strong language in their vehemence. This, being fortunately bawled forth all at once was incomprehensible to the dwellers within doors, now all scared together and no longer cool and self-possessed.
"Robbers!" said Mrs. Tarne.
"We've never been molested before, at least not for twenty years or more," said Mrs. Pemberthy; "and then I mind—"
"Is it likely to be any of Reuben's friends?" asked Sophie, timidly.