s I'd--I'd know them."

"Landlord, landlord!" cried a man whose uncertain footsteps could be
heard in the passage,--"landlord, bring your two guests to us--bring
them for a glass."

The fellow was making his way to the room into which Ralph and Sim had
been hustled. The landlord slid out of it through the smallest
aperture between the door and its frame that could discharge a man of
his sturdy physique. When the door closed behind him he could be heard
to protest against any intention of disturbing his visitors. The two
gentlemen had made a long journey, travelling two nights and two days
at a stretch; so they'd gone off to bed and were snoring hard by this
time; the landlord could stake his solemn honor upon it.

The tipsy Royalist seemed content with the apology for non-appearance,
and returned to his companions bellowing,--

"Let Tories guard the King;
Let Whigs in halters swing."

Ralph walked uneasily across the room. Could it be that these men were
already on their way to Wythburn to carry out the processes of the law
with respect to himself and his family?

In another minute the landlord returned.

"It's as certain as the Lord's above us," he whispered. "They wanted
to get to you to have you drink the King's health with them, and when
I swore you were asleep they ax't if you had no horses with you. I
said you had one horse. 'One horse among two,' they said, with a great
goasteren laugh; 'why, then, they're Jock and his mither.' 'One
horse,' I said, 'or maybe two.' 'We must have 'em,' they said; 'we
take possession on 'em in the King's service. We've got to cross the
fells to Wy'bern in the morning.'"

"What are they, Brown?"

"Musketeers, three of 'em, and ya sour fellow that limps of a leg;
they call him Constable David."

"Let them have the horses. It will save trouble to you."

Then turning to Sim, Ralph added, "We must be stirring betimes
to-morrow, old friend; the daybreak must see us on the road. The snow
will be thick in the morning, and perhaps the horses would have
hindered us. Everything is for the best."

The landlord lifted his curly-headed son (now fast asleep) from Sim's
knee, and left the room.

Sim's excitement was plainly visible, and even Ralph could not conceal
his own agitation. Was he to be too late to do what it had been in his
mind to do?

"Did you say Saturday week next? It is Tuesday to-day," said Ralph.

"A week come Saturday--that was what Rotha told me."