Chapter Nine.
Digby’s New Pony—Attacked by Smugglers—The Outlaws’ Cavern—A Voyage—The Gale—An Ill Wind that Blows no one Good—Digby Shipwrecked.
“You beautiful little Sweetlips, many a jolly ride I’ll have on you,” cried the young Squire of Bloxholme Hall, as he patted his pony’s neck while he cantered along over the ground, just crisping with the newly set in frost. He had intended to go only as far as the park gates, but the air was so refreshing, and the feeling of finding himself once more in the saddle was so exhilarating that, seeing the gate open, he could not help dashing through it, and giving his pony the rein and a cut with his whip, galloping along a smooth piece of turf which ran for some distance by the side of the road. “I shall be back quite time enough to dress for dinner,” he thought to himself, “and Sweetlips likes the fun as much as I do.” He galloped on a little longer. “Oh, this is delightful! We must go a short distance further, Sweetlips,” he exclaimed. “We will turn back, then, and you shall have a capital feed. I’ll tell John Pratt to give it you. Oh, how kind is papa. You are a first-rate pony, indeed you are, old fellow.” On he went; the pony certainly seeming to enjoy the gallop as much as his young master. “Now we really must go back, Sweetlips,” cried Digby, pulling in his rein, for the gloom of evening was rapidly increasing. He did not perceive that several men were coming quickly along the road close to him. “Now for Bloxholme, at your best speed, my pony, he shouted in his glee.”
“Hillo! stop, master!” cried one of the men, springing forward and seizing his rein. “Who are you?”
“Let go my bridle,” answered Digby, trying to free himself. “I am Mr Heathcote’s son, if you wish to know.”
“Ho, ho! are you, indeed, youngster?” said one of the men. “We are in luck, then. I say, though, you are not going home just now. Come along with us.”
“Along with you! Indeed I will not,” answered Digby, with very natural indignation.
“Ho, ho, my cock of the woods, don’t crow so loudly, or we may have to squeeze your windpipe,” exclaimed another of the ruffians coming up.