“Who talks of hindering you, mother?” responded the other. “On the contrary, we come for the express purpose of helping you along.”
“We want none of your help,” said Elsie, gruffly.
“See, now, how foolish you are!” said the horseman. “Don’t you see that that town is a good seven miles off, and not a bit of bed or supper to be had till you get there, and the sun will be down soon? So mount up behind me, and here is a horse for the little one.”
In fact, the horsemen at this moment opening disclosed to view a palfrey with a lady’s saddle, richly caparisoned, as if for a person of condition. With a sudden movement, two of the men dismounted, confronted the travellers, and the one who had acted as spokesman, approaching Agnes, said, in a tone somewhat imperative,—
“Come, young lady, it is our master’s will that your poor little feet should have some rest.”
And before Agnes could remonstrate, he raised her into the saddle as easily as if she had been a puff of thistle-down, and then turning to Elsie, he said,—
“For you, good mother, if you wish to keep up, you must e’en be content with a seat behind me.”
“Who are you? and how dare you?” said Elsie, indignantly.
“Good mother,” said the man, “you see God’s will is that you should submit, because we are four to you two, and there are fifty more within call. So get up without more words, and I swear by the Holy Virgin no harm shall be done you.”
Elsie looked and saw Agnes already some distance before her, the bridle of her palfrey being held by one of the horsemen, who rode by her side and seemed to look after her carefully; and so, without more ado, she accepted the services of the man, and, placing her foot on the toe of his riding-boot, mounted to the crupper behind him.