Do you hear?" he thundered
forth. "Will you hang us all, you fool, by your delay?"
The highwaymen were scurrying out of the room now, a few in too
much haste to thank the givers of the feast, the others bowing and
shaking hands in mock burlesque of their chief. Stango had thrown
down his keys and run for it.
"Sorry we must leave you, Master Pemberthy," said the captain, "but
I certainly have the impression that a troop of horse soldiers
is coming in this direction. Pure fancy, probably; but one cannot
risk anything in these hard times. Your purse, sir, which I took
this afternoon--I shall not require it. Buy Mistress Sophie a
wedding with it. Good-night."
He bowed low, but he did not smile till he met Sophie's frightened
looks; then he bowed still lower, hat in hand, and said good-night
with a funny break in his voice and a longing look in his dark eyes
that Sophie did not readily forget.
It was all like a dream after the highwaymen had put spurs to their
horses and galloped away from Maythorpe Farm.
It will be fifteen years come next winter-time since the "Minions
of the Moon" held high carnival at the farm of Reuben Pemberthy.
Save that the trees about the homestead are full of rustling green
leaves and there is sunshine where the white frost lay, the farm
looks very much the same; the great thatched roof has taken a
darker tinge, and all the gold in it has turned to gray, and the
walls are more weather-beaten than of yore; but it is the old farm
still, standing "foursquare," with the highroad to Finchley winding
over the green hill yonder like a great, white, dusty snake Along
the road comes a horseman at full speed, as though anxious to
find a shelter before nightfall, for the king's highway in this
direction is no safer than it used to be, and people talk of Abershaw
and Barrington, and a man with sixteen strings to his hat, who are
busy in this direction.
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