eaned almost on the neck of the mare, which, as I knew,
must close the wound; and the light of his eyes was quite different,
and the pain of his forehead unstrung itself, as if he felt the undulous
readiness of her volatile paces under him.

"God bless you, John; I am safe," he whispered, fearing to open his
lungs much: "who can come near my Winnie mare? A mile of her gallop
is ten years of life. Look out for yourself, John Ridd." He sucked his
lips, and the mare went off, as easy and swift as a swallow.

"Well," thought I, as I looked at Kickums, ignobly cropping up a bit
of grass, "I have done a very good thing, no doubt, and ought to be
thankful to God for the chance. But as for getting away unharmed, with
all these scoundrels about me, and only a foundered horse to trust
in--good and spiteful as he is--upon the whole, I begin to think that I
have made a fool of myself, according to my habit. No wonder Tom said,
'Look out for yourself!' I shall look out from a prison window, or
perhaps even out of a halter. And then, what will Lorna think of me?"

Being in this wistful mood, I resolved to abide awhile, even where fate
had thrown me; for my horse required good rest no doubt, and was taking
it even while he cropped, with his hind legs far away stretched out, and
his forelegs gathered under him, and his muzzle on the mole-hills; so
that he had five supportings from his mother earth. Moreover, the linhay
itself was full of very ancient cow dung; than which there is no balmier
and more maiden soporific. Hence I resolved, upon the whole, though
grieving about breakfast, to light a pipe, and go to sleep; or at least
until the hot sun should arouse the flies.

I may have slept three hours, or four, or it might be even five--for I
never counted time, while sleeping--when a shaking more rude than the
old landlady's, brought me back to the world again. I looked up, with a
mighty yawn; and saw twenty, or so, of foot-soldiers.

"This linhay is not yours," I said, when they had quite aroused me, with
tongue, and hand, and even sword-prick: "what business have you here,
good fellows?"

"Business bad for you," said one, "and will lead you to the gallows."

"Do you wish to know the way out again?" I asked, very quietly, as being
no braggadocio.

"We will show thee the way out," said one, "and the way out of the
world," said another: "but not the way to heaven," said one chap, most
unlikely to know it: and thereupon they all f