ded their gables beyond the roofs of the houses, several
other figures appeared through the opposite gateway in hot pursuit. One
was certainly a guard of some kind, a stout, important-looking fellow,
who ran and wheezed as he ran loud enough to be heard at the inn door.
The women standing before the houses, too, presently were after the
rest--all except one old dame, who put her head forth, and peered this
way and that with a vindictive anger at having been left all alone. More
yet showed themselves--children dragging puppies after them, an old man
with a large rusty sword, a couple of lads each with a pike--these
appeared, like figures in a pantomime play, whisking into sight from
between the houses, and all disappearing again immediately.

And then, all on a sudden, a great clamour of voices began, all shouting
together, as if some quarry had been sighted: it grew louder, sharp
cries of command rang above the roar. Then there burst out of the side,
where all had gone in, a ball of children, which exploded into fragments
and faced about, still with a couple of puppies that barked shrilly; and
then, walking very fast and upright, came Mr. Robin Audrey, white-faced
and stern, straight up to where the lad waited with the horses.

Robin jerked his head.

"Quick!" he said. "We must be off, or we shall be here all night." He
gathered up his reins for mounting.

"What is it, sir?" asked the other, unable to be silent.

"They have caught some fellows," he said.

"And the inn-account, sir?"

Robin pulled out a couple of coins from his pouch.

"Put that on the table within," he said. "We can wait no longer. Give me
your reins!"

His manner was so dreadful that the young man dared ask no more. He ran
in, laid the coins down (they were more than double what could have been
asked for their entertainment), came out again, and mounted his own
horse that his friend held. As they rode down the street, he could not
refrain from looking back, as a great roar of voices broke out again;
but he could see no more than a crowd of men, with the pitchforks moving
like spears on the outskirt, as if they guarded prisoners within, come
out between the houses and turn up towards the inn they themselves had
just left.

* * * * *

As they came clear of the village and out again upon the open road,
Robin turned to him, and his face was still pale and stern.

"Mr. Arnold," he said, "those were the last of my