And this was exactly what I did; and a terrible run
I had for it, fearing at every step to hear the echo
of shots in the valley, and dropping down the scrubby
rocks with tearing and violent scratching. Then
I crossed Bagworthy stream, not far below Doone-valley,
and breasted the hill towards Slocombslade, with my
heart very heavily panting. Why Jeremy chose
to ride this way, instead of the more direct one (which
would have been over Oare-hill), was more than I could
account for: but I had nothing to do with that;
all I wanted was to save his life.
And this I did by about a minute; and (which was the
hardest thing of all) with a great horse-pistol at
my head as I seized upon his bridle.
“Jeremy, Jerry,” was all I could say,
being so fearfully short of breath; for I had crossed
the ground quicker than any horse could.
“Spoken just in time, John Ridd!” cried
Master Stickles, still however pointing the pistol
at me: “I might have known thee by thy size,
John. What art doing here?”
“Come to save your life. For God’s
sake, go no farther. Three men in the covert
there, with long guns, waiting for thee.”
“Ha! I have been watched of late.
That is why I pointed at thee, John. Back round
this corner, and get thy breath, and tell me all about
it. I never saw a man so hurried. I could
beat thee now, John.”
Jeremy Stickles was a man of courage, and presence
of mind, and much resource: otherwise he would
not have been appointed for this business; nevertheless
he trembled greatly when he heard what I had to tell
him. But I took good care to keep back the name
of young Marwood de Whichehalse; neither did I show
my knowledge of the other men; for reasons of my own
not very hard to conjecture.
“We will let them cool their heels, John Ridd,”
said Jeremy, after thinking a little. “I
cannot fetch my musketeers either from Glenthorne
or Lynmouth, in time to seize the fellows. And
three desperate Doones, well-armed, are too many for
you and me. One result this attempt will have,
it will make us attack them sooner than we had intended.
And one more it will have, good John, it will make
me thy friend for ever. Shake hands my lad, and
forgive me freely for having been so cold to thee.
Mayhap, in the troubles coming, it will help thee not
a little to have done me this good turn.”
Upon this he shook me by the hand, with a pressure
such as we feel not often; and having learned from
me how to pass quite beyond view of his enemies, he
rode on to his duty, whatever it might be. For
my part I was inclined to stay, and watch how long
the three fusiliers would have the patience to lie
in wait; but seeing less and less use in that, as I
grew more and more hungry, I swung my coat about me,
and went home to Plover’s Barrows.
A TROUBLED STATE AND A FOOLISH JOKE
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