city, which had not penetrated to rustic and primitive
places such as Ashby Saint Ledgers. A horseman came trotting up the
street, and drew bridle at his door.

"Give thee good den, smith! Dost know the road to Dunchurch?"

Bennet Leeson took off his leather cap, and scratched his head, as if it
were necessary to clear a path to his brains before the question could
penetrate so far.

"Well, I reckon I do, when 'tis wanted. What o' that?"

"Wilt guide me thither?"

"What, this even?"

"Ay, now."

Bennet's cap came off again, and he repeated the clearing process on the
other side of his head.

"I will content thee well for it," said the stranger: "but make up thy
mind, for time presseth."

A dulcet vision of silver shillings--of which no great number usually
came his way--floated before the charmed eyes of the blacksmith.

"Well, I shouldn't mind if I did. Tarry while I get my horse."

The stranger waited, though rather impatiently, till Bennet reappeared,
leading a rough Dunsmoor pony, with a horsecloth tied round it, on which
he mounted without saddle.

"Now then, my master. Nay, not that way! You're turning your back on
Dunchurch so."

The horseman checked his hasty, start with a smile, and followed his
guide. As they reached the other end of the village, and came out into
the open, Catesby and his companions emerged from the trees, and joined
Robert Winter.

"Him's growed!" said Bennet Leeson to himself, as he glanced round at
the increased sound of horses' hoofs. "First time I ever see one man
split his self into thirteen. The beast's split his self too. Wonder
if them'll ha' come to six-and-twenty by the time us gets at Dunchurch!"

The company, however, grew no further, and Bennet led them up to the
door of the Lion at Dunchurch without any more marvels. It was now
about "seven or eight o'clock in the night." Catesby, the only one whom
he knew by sight, said to the smith as he dismounted--

"Here, smith, wilt walk the horses a few moments? It shall not be
forgot in the reckoning."

The whole party then went into the Lion, where Sir Everard Digby and
others awaited them. A hurried, eager discussion of future plans took
place here. The drawer was called to bring bottles of sack and glasses,
and before he was well out of hearing, impetuous Percy cried, "We are
all betrayed!"

"Softly, an't like you!" responded the cooler Catesby.

"We must go on now," cried Percy: "we shall die