When John Willet saw that the horsemen wheeled smartly round, and drew up three abreast in the narrow road, waiting for him and his man to join them, it occurred to him with unusual precipitation that they must be highwaymen; and had Hugh been armed with a blunderbuss, in place of his stout cudgel, he would certainly have ordered him to fire it off at a venture, and would, while the word of command was obeyed, have consulted his own personal safety in immediate flight. Under the circumstances of disadvantage, however, in which he and his guard were placed, he deemed it prudent to adopt a different style of generalship, and therefore whispered his attendant to address them in the most peaceable and courteous terms. By way of acting up to the spirit and letter of this instruction, Hugh stepped forward, and flourishing his staff before the very eyes of the rider nearest to him, demanded roughly what he and his fellows meant by so nearly galloping over them, and why they scoured the king's highway at that late hour of night.
The man whom be addressed was beginning an angry reply in the same strain, when be was checked by the horseman in the centre, who, interposing with an air of authority, inquired in a somewhat loud but not harsh or unpleasant voice:
'Pray, is this the London road?'
'If you follow it right, it is,' replied Hugh roughly.
'Nay, brother,' said the same person, 'you're but a churlish Englishman, if Englishman you be--which I should much doubt but for your tongue. Your companion, I am sure, will answer me more civilly. How say you, friend?'
'I say it IS the London road, sir,' answered John. 'And I wish,'
he added in a subdued voice, as he turned to Hugh, 'that you was in any other road, you vagabond. Are you tired of your life, sir, that you go a-trying to provoke three great neck-or-nothing chaps, that could keep on running over us, back'ards and for'ards, till we was dead, and then take our bodies up behind 'em, and drown us ten miles off?'
'How far is it to London?' inquired the same speaker.
'Why, from here, sir,' answered John, persuasively, 'it's thirteen very easy mile.'
The adjective was thrown in, as an inducement to the travellers to ride away with all speed; but instead of having the desired effect, it elicited from the same person, the remark, 'Thirteen miles!
That's a long distance!' which was followed by a short pause of indecision.
'Pray,' said the gentleman, 'are there any inns hereabouts?' At the word 'inns,' John plucked up his spirit in a surprising manner;
his fears rolled off like smoke; all the landlord stirred within him.
'There are no inns,' rejoined Mr Willet, with a strong emphasis on the plural number; 'but there's a Inn--one Inn--the Maypole Inn.
That's a Inn indeed. You won't see the like of that Inn often.'
'You keep it, perhaps?' said the horseman, smiling.
'I do, sir,' replied John, greatly wondering how he had found this out.
'And how far is the Maypole from here?'
'About a mile'--John was going to add that it was the easiest mile in all the world, when the third rider, who had hitherto kept a little in the rear, suddenly interposed:
'And have you one excellent bed, landlord? Hem! A bed that you can recommend--a bed that you are sure is well aired--a bed that has been slept in by some perfectly respectable and unexceptionable person?'
'We don't take in no tagrag and bobtail at our house, sir,'
answered John. 'And as to the bed itself--'
'Say, as to three beds,' interposed the gentleman who had spoken before; 'for we shall want three if we stay, though my friend only speaks of one.'
'No, no, my lord; you are too good, you are too kind; but your life is of far too much importance to the nation in these portentous times, to be placed upon a level with one so useless and so poor as mine. A great cause, my lord, a mighty cause, depends on you. You are its leader and its champion, its advanced guard and its van.
It is the cause of our altars and our homes, our country and our faith. Let ME sleep on a chair--the carpet--anywhere. No one will repine if I take cold or fever. Let John Grueby pass the night beneath the open sky--no one will repine for HIM. But forty thousand men of this our island in the wave (exclusive of women and children) rivet their eyes and thoughts on Lord George Gordon; and every day, from the rising up of the sun to the going down of the same, pray for his health and vigour. My lord,' said the speaker, rising in his stirrups, 'it is a glorious cause, and must not be forgotten. My lord, it is a mighty cause, and must not be endangered. My lord, it is a holy cause, and must not be deserted.'
'It IS a holy cause,' exclaimed his lordship, lifting up his hat with great solemnity. 'Amen.'
'John Grueby,' said the long-winded gentleman, in a tone of mild reproof, 'his lordship said Amen.'
'I heard my lord, sir,' said the man, sitting like a statue on his horse.
'And do not YOU say Amen, likewise?'
To which John Grueby made no reply at all, but sat looking straight before him.
'You surprise me, Grueby,' said the gentleman. 'At a crisis like the present, when Queen Elizabeth, that maiden monarch, weeps within her tomb, and Bloody Mary, with a brow of gloom and shadow, stalks triumphant--'
'Oh, sir,' cied the man, gruffly, 'where's the use of talking of Bloody Mary, under such circumstances as the present, when my lord's wet through, and tired with hard riding? Let's either go on to London, sir, or put up at once; or that unfort'nate Bloody Mary will have more to answer for--and she's done a deal more harm in her grave than she ever did in her lifetime, I believe.'