e, and we shall be safe in the hostel at Dogmersfield.
Come on, my boy," to Stephen, "the brave hound is quite dead, more's the
pity. Thou canst do no more for him, and we shall soon be in his case
if we dally here."

"I cannot cannot leave him thus," sobbed Stephen, who had the loving old
head on his knees. "Ambrose! stay, we must bring him. There, his tail
wagged! If the blood were staunched--"

"Stephen! Indeed he is stone dead! Were he our brother we could not do
otherwise," reasoned Ambrose, forcibly dragging his brother to his feet.
"Go on we must. Wouldst have us all slaughtered for his sake? Come!
The rogues will be upon us anon. Spring saved this good man's life.
Undo not his work. See. Is yonder your horse, sir? This way, Stevie!"

The instinct of catching the horse roused Stephen, and it was soon
accomplished, for the steed was a plump, docile, city-bred palfrey, with
dapple-grey flanks like well-stuffed satin pincushions, by no means
resembling the shaggy Forest ponies of the boys' experience, but quite
astray in the heath, and ready to come at the master's whistle; and call
of "Soh Soh!--now Poppet!" Stephen caught the bridle, and Ambrose
helped the burgess into the saddle. "Now, good boys," he said, "each of
you lay a hand on my pommel. We can make good speed ere the rascals
find out our scant numbers."

"You would make better speed without us, sir," said Stephen, hankering
to remain beside poor Spring.

"Eye think Giles Headley the man to leave two children, that have maybe
saved my life as well as my purse, to bear the malice of the robbers?"
demanded the burgess angrily. "That were like those fellows of mine who
have shown their heels and left their master strapped to a tree! Thou!
thou! what's thy name, that hast the most wit, bring thy brother, unless
thou wouldst have him laid by the side of his dog."

Stephen was forced to comply, and run by Poppet's side, though his eyes
were so full of tears that he could not see his way, even when the pace
slackened, and in the twilight they found themselves among houses and
gardens, and thus in safety, the lights of an inn shining not far off.

A figure came out in the road to meet them, crying, "Master! master! is
it you? and without scathe? Oh, the saints be praised!"

"Ay, Tibble, 'tis I and no other, thanks to the saints and to these
brave lads! What, man, I blame thee not, I know thou canst not strike;
but where be the rest?"

"