To the astonishment of all the beholders they got down in safety, and were soon afterwards seen crossing the bridge; being then so close together, that it was impossible to say who had won the race.
The Earl of Derwentwater and his companions took an easier and more secure route down. As they approached the old bridge over the Coquet leading to the charming little town, they met the two crazy riders coming to meet them, and inquired who had won.
“We can't settle the point, my lord,” replied the squire; “it seems to have been a dead-heat. We shall have to ride the race over again.”
“Not on Simonside Hill,” replied Lord Derwentwater, laughing. “Have you heard where Mr. Forster has fixed his head-quarters? I see nothing of him or his troop.”
“His head-quarters are now at Wanny Crags,” replied the squire. “He has gone there to meet some friends.”
“Does he return to Rothbury?” demanded the earl.
“That seems doubtful,” replied Charles Radclyffe. “No one can answer for his movements. Probably, he will proceed to Warkworth to meet Lord Widdrington.”
“Then we must follow him,” said the earl.
Fain would Lord Deventwater have tarried for a day at Rothbury, which offered many attractions to him, but wishing to effect an immediate junction with Forster, he only halted long enough to allow his men to refresh themselves at the comfortable little hostel near the church, where they found good ale.
To reach Wanny Crags, they had again to cross Simon-side, and the deciding race was run on the summit, and won by Squire Hall, who was extraordinarily proud of the achievement.