and looked up at me.

"This ain't------ Mr. Lilly white, I don't believe this ain't a
Jack Spaniard."

The clinks of bits and stirrup-irons came down in a waft again.

"That be hanged for a tale, Thorns," the man with the lanthorn said
sharply. "If this here ain't Riego--or the other--I'll . . ."

I began to come out of my stupor.

"My name's John Kemp," I said.

The other grunted. "Hurry up, Thorns."

"But, Mr. Lillywhite," Thorns reasoned, "he don't speak like a Dago.
Split me if he do! And we ain't in a friendly country either, you know
that. We can't afford to rile the gentry!"

I plucked up courage.

"You'll get your heads broke," I said, "if you wait much longer. Hark to
that!"

The approaching horses had turned off the turf on to the hard road; the
steps of first one and then another sounded out down the silent hill.
I knew it was the Free Traders from that; for except between banks they
kept to the soft roadsides as if it were an article of faith. The noise
of hoofs became that of an army.

The runners began to consult. The shadow called Thorns was for bolting
across country; but Lilly white was not built for speed. Besides he did
not know the lie of the land, and believed the Free Traders were mere
bogeys.

"They'll never touch us," Lillywhite grumbled. "We've a warrant...
King's name...." He was flashing his lanthorn aimlessly up the hill.

"Besides," he began again, "we've got this gallus bird. If he's not a
Spaniard, he knows all about them. I heard him. Kemp he may be, but he
spoke Spanish up there... and we've got something for our trouble. He'll
swing, I'll lay you a------"

From far above us came a shout, then a confused noise of voices. The
moon began to get up; above the cutting the clouds had a fringe of
sudden silver. A horseman, cloaked and muffled to the ears, trotted
warily towards us.

"What's up?" he hailed from a matter of ten yards. "What are you showing
that glim for? Anything wrong below?"

The runners kept silence; we heard the click of a pistol lock.

"In the King's name," Lillywhite shouted, "get off that nag and lend a
hand! We've a prisoner."

The horseman gave an incredulous whistle, and then began to shout, his
voice winding mournfully uphill, "Hallo! Hallo--o--o." An echo stole
back, "Hallo! Hallo--o--o"; then a number of voices. The horse stood,
drooping its head, and the man turned in his saddle. "Runners," he
shouted, "Bow Street runners! Come along, come a