“Yes—but the horse.”
“We could leave him on this side for the night.”
She stared at the gate-house.
“Perhaps. But we shall want a bridge that can be drawn in, to keep out chance visitors. The gate, too, is off its hinges, and broken. I know where a beam is hidden, but I doubt whether we can lift it.”
“There is the rope—and I am strong.”
Her eyes looked him over with critical praise.
“Yes, you are bigger than your father. If we could throw a couple of young ash trees across the first gulf. There is a thicket of ashes down yonder.”
Martin needed no second word from her. He had the tools off the horse’s back, and the ax on his shoulder.
“Which way?”
“Over there. I’ll take the billhook and lop off the boughs while you do the felling.”