“Exactly. It is that ford I wish you to guard. I must tell you that it may become a post of danger, as some of the rebels may attempt to escape that way.”
“I don't care for danger,” said the valiant pastor; “and I hope I shall take many prisoners.”
“If necessary, a party of men shall be sent to support you,” said Wills.
“I trust we shall not need support, general,” said the pastor, resolutely. “Before the day is over I fancy my followers will have got some better arms than they now possess.”
“Decidedly, you ought to have been a soldier, reverend sir,” observed Wills. “You would have done credit to the profession. Now, will you remain here for the night, or march on with your men to Chorley, so as to have less to do to-morrow?”
“We will adopt the latter course, general,” replied the pastor. “We will halt for the night at a small place called Whittle-in-the-Woods, about six miles from Penwortham. We can take up our post early in the morning. Have you any further orders to give me?”
“None,” replied Wills. “But I hope you will take some refreshment before you set out on your march.”
“All is ready for you,” said Sir Henry Hoghton, advancing. “Come with me and bring your men with you.” Parson Woods willingly complied with the invitation, and, saluting the general in a military style, accompanied Sir Henry to the mess-room of the militia, where a substantial repast awaited him and his men.
Thoroughly recruited, and in very good spirits, the warlike pastor commenced his march to Whittle-in-the-Woods.