long, boys! We'll roast
'em.... Runners! Runners!"

The sound of heavy horses at a jolting trot came to our ears.

"We're in for it," Lillywhite grunted. "D------n this county of Kent."

Thorns never loosed his hold of my collar. At the steep of the hill the
men and horses came into sight against the white sky, a confused crowd
of ominous things.

"Turn that lanthorn off'n me," the horseman said. "Don't you see you
frighten my horse? Now, boys, get round them. . . ."

The great horses formed an irregular half-circle round us; men descended
clumsily, like sacks of corn. The lanthorn was seized and flashed upon
us; there was a confused hubbub. I caught my own name.

"Yes, I'm Kemp... John Kemp," I called. "I'm true blue."

"Blue be hanged!" a voice shouted back. "What be you a-doing with
runners?"

The riot went on--forty or fifty voices. The runners were seized;
several hands caught at me. It was impossible to make myself heard; a
fist struck me on the cheek.

"Gibbet 'em," somebody shrieked; "they hung my nephew! Gibbet 'em all
the three. Young Kemp's mother's a bad 'un. An informer he is. Up with
'em!"

I was pulled down on my knees, then thrust forward, and then left to
myself while they rushed to bonnet Lillywhite. I stumbled against a
great, quiet farm horse.

A continuous scuffling went on; an imperious voice cried: "Hold your
tongues, you fools! Hold your tongues!..." Someone else called: "Hear to
Jack Rangsley. Hear to him!"

There was a silence. I saw a hand light a torch at the lanthorn, and the
crowd of faces, the muddle of limbs, the horses' heads, and the quiet
trees above, flickered into sight.

"Don't let them hang me, Jack Rangsley," I sobbed. "You know I'm no spy.
Don't let 'em hang me, Jack."

He rode his horse up to me, and caught me by the collar.

"Hold your tongue," he said roughly. He began to make a set speech,
anathematizing runners. He moved to tie our feet, and hang us by our
finger-nails over the quarry edge.

A hubbub of assent and dissent went up; then the crowd became unanimous.
Rangsley slipped from his horse.

"Blindfold 'em, lads," he cried, and turned me sharply round.

"Don't struggle," he whispered in my ear; his silk handkerchief came
cool across my eyelids. I felt hands fumbling with a knot at the back of
my head. "You're all right," he said again. The hubbub of voices ceased
suddenly. "Now, lads, bring 'em along."

A voice I knew said their watchword, "Snuf