he news was good for me, the
smile of baffled malice made his dark face look most hideous; "and I
shall hold you answerable for the custody of this prisoner."

"Colonel Kirke, I will answer for him," Master Stickles replied, with a
grave bow, and one hand on his breast: "John Ridd, you are my prisoner.
Follow me, John Ridd."

Upon that, those precious lambs flocked away, leaving the rope still
around me; and some were glad, and some were sorry, not to see me
swinging. Being free of my arms again, I touched my hat to Colonel
Kirke, as became his rank and experience; but he did not condescend to
return my short salutation, having espied in the distance a prisoner,
out of whom he might make money.

I wrung the hand of Jeremy Stickles, for his truth and goodness; and
he almost wept (for since his wound he had been a weakened man) as he
answered, "Turn for turn, John. You saved my life from the Doones; and
by the mercy of God, I have saved you from a far worse company. Let your
sister Annie know it."

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CHAPTER LXVI

SUITABLE DEVOTION

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Now Kickums was not like Winnie, any more than a man is like a woman;
and so he had not followed my fortunes, except at his own distance. No
doubt but what he felt a certain interest in me; but his interest was
not devotion; and man might go his way and be hanged, rather than horse
would meet hardship. Therefore, seeing things to be bad, and his master
involved in trouble, what did this horse do but start for the ease and
comfort of Plover's Barrows, and the plentiful ration of oats abiding
in his own manger. For this I do not blame him. It is the manner of
mankind.

But I could not help being very uneasy at the thought of my mother's
discomfort and worry, when she should spy this good horse coming home,
without any master, or rider, and I almost hoped that he might be caught
(although he was worth at least twenty pounds) by some of the King's
troopers, rather than find his way home, and spread distress among
our people. Yet, knowing his nature, I doubted if any could catch, or
catching would keep him.

Jeremy Stickles assured me, as we took the road to Bridgwater, that the
only chance for my life (if I still refused to fly) was to obtain
an order forthwith, for my despatch to London, as a suspected person
indeed, but not found in open rebellion, and believed to be under the
patronage of the great