The Yeoman Adventurer Part 17

"This beats c.o.c.k-fighting," said mine host admiringly. He spread himself, happy and conspicuous as a tom-t.i.t on a round of beef, and the crowd, pleasantly antic.i.p.ating mugs of beer later on, urged the Mayor to be up and doing.

"What have you to say for yourself?" said his grocer-ship to me, with a dim and belated idea, perhaps, that I might be interested in the proceedings.

"The beadle's coat is much too large for him," said I.

"Yes, yes," he replied hurriedly. "Samson Salt was a big man and had only had the coat three years when he died, and we couldn't afford a new one for Timothy. Dear me, but this isn't a council meeting, and what's the beadle's coat got to do with horse-stealing?"

"As much as I have," I replied gravely.

"Yow've 'ad enough, my lad," said the host, "to last y'r the rest of y'r life. The next 'oss you rides'll be foaled of an acorn. Let Timothy put him in clink, Master Mayor, and come and have a noggin of the real thing.

Gom, I'm that dry my belly'll be thinking my throat's cut."

"Arrest this man, Timothy Tomkins, and put him in jail till I can take due order for his trial."

Timothy turned up the sleeves of his coat, and arrested me by placing his hand on my arm, and flourishing the bra.s.s crown in my face.

"Don't hurt me, Timothy," I said. "I'll come like a lamb, and I'll go slow lest you should tumble over the tail of your coat."

"If you say another word about the blasted coat I'll split your head open," was his angry reply. It was evidently a sore topic with him and a familiar one with his frugal townsmen, for some man in the crowd cried out, "'Tinna big enough for the missis, be it, Timothy?" And while the peppery little beadle's eyes were searching the j.a.per out, another added, "More's the pity, for 'er's a bit of a light-skirt." At this there was a roar of laughter, so I saved the frenzied officer further trouble by saying, "Come along, Timothy. Let's go to jail."

On the Mayor's orders, mine host despoiled me of the sergeant's tuck, and Timothy marched me off to the jail, the rabble following, as full of chatter as a nest of magpies. The jail was a small stone building, standing, like the town hall, in the middle of the street. Arrived there, Timothy thrust me into an ill-lit dirty hole below the level of the street, locked the door behind me, and left me to my reflections.

The only furniture of the den was a rude bench. A nap would do me good, so, after a good pull at Kate's precious cordial, I curled up on the bench and in a few minutes was sound asleep. And in my sleep I dreamed that two blue stars were twinkling at me through a golden cloud.

CHAPTER XII

THE GUEST-ROOM OF THE "RISING SUN"

A wisp of cloud, a long trail of shimmering gold, broke loose, swept with the touch of softest silk across my cheek, and half awakened me. I was lazily and sleepily regretting that such caresses only came in dreams, when I was brought sharply back to full life by a ripple of hearty laughter.

"Gloat on!" said I complacently.

"I knew you'd slip some time or other. Gloat! Of course I shall gloat."

And she laughed again. I should have borne it easily enough, coming from her, under any circ.u.mstances, but there was one circ.u.mstance which made it a pure joy. The white hands were busy with her unruly yellow hair, and I was so far gone foolward that I was in some sort hopeful that they were imprisoning the wisp of golden cloud that had awakened me. I bitterly regretted that I was not as nimble at waking as Jack. He would be sleeping like a leg of mutton one second and, at the touch of a feather, as wide awake as a weasel the next. I took time--it was the Latin rubbish c.u.mbering my brain, he used to say--or I might have made sure.

Mistress Margaret was perched on the edge of my bench. She seemed in no hurry to move, and I could not get up till she did, so I lay still, cradling my head in my hands, and looked contentedly at her. It was now so gloomy that I had evidently been asleep some time.

"I knew you'd slip," she repeated with great zest. "All men do. And I'm glad you slipped, for it proved you human. I was getting quite overawed by the terrible precision with which you did exactly the right thing at exactly the right time. It made me feel so very small and inferior, and no woman likes that. It's not nice."

"Or natural," said I.

"I see you're unmistakably awake, sir!" was the tart reply. She rose and took short turns up and down the cell and went on: "But why slip into jail, Master Wheatman? Why did you not tell father who you were and what you had done for me?"

"And so prove at once to the authorities in the town that he was not what he pretended to be!"

"Ho!" she said, and stopped short.

"Our idea was, I think, to free the Colonel, if we could."

"Yes." She was not gloating now, but wondering.

"Well, madam, I found him free, and the only advantage I can see in your plan is, that I should have had him as a companion in jail. Whereas now I've mended my night's sleep with a refreshing nap, and Master Freake has so lucidly explained things to the Mayor that Timothy of the long coat is kicking his heels at the top of the stairs, and wondering how much longer you're going to be. Shall we once more breathe the upper air, as Virgil would put it? This hole is as bad as a corner in his under-world."

"And I laughed at you for slipping, Master Wheatman! I shall never dare to look you in the face again."

"Don't you believe it, madam," said I airily, leading the way to the steps. "I've heard Copper n.o.b say the same thing scores of times."

"Who's Copper n.o.b?"

The question came like the crack of a whip, and I was glad the familiar phrase had slipped out unawares and diverted her.

"Our Kate," I explained.

"Oh indeed, sir! A more beautiful head of hair no woman in this land possesses, and you glibly call her 'Copper n.o.b.' Doubtless you have selected some nice expressive name for me!"

"I shouldn't dare!" I protested hotly.

"Why not? You do it for her, brazenly and wantonly."

"Yes, madam, but she's my sister."

"How does that a.s.sure me?"

"A man's sister isn't a woman," said I, and went ahead and pushed open the door. There, sure enough, was Timothy, looking very uncertain and rueful. The little man's complaisance had given me the greatest wonder of my life--Margaret's silent watching over me as I lay asleep, and I gave him a guinea with much gladness.

"The coat's too big for you, Timothy, and it's no good denying it. I'll speak to his worship about a new one of the right length."

"Thank yer, sir," he said, grinning oafishly as he pouched the guinea.

"I'd rather have a new coat than a new missus, and, swelp me bob, I want both."

Margaret joined me, and we at once made our way to the "Rising Sun." Work for the day was over, and the street was now getting thronged and noisy.

Many curious looks were bent on us, but no one dared to interfere with a man of my evil reputation, a horse-thief being the last thing in desperadoes. We had only a few yards to go, but my mistress apprised me in sweet whisperings that Master Freake's explanation was that Sultan had been innocently obtained from the real thief, that I was his servant, and, not knowing of the horse deal, had loyally kept silent lest I should make mischief--a happy and reasonably truthful rendering of the real facts.

"After his private talk with Master Mayor," she added, "that worthy man's knees were as hard worked as the hinges of an ale-house door."

"The poor cringeling is but a grocer," said I, as we turned in under the archway of the "Rising Sun." The host saw us through the kitchen window, and ran out to usher us in with the a.s.surance of a bra.s.s weatherc.o.c.k.

"Sommat like a jail delivery, eh, y'r 'onour? Gom, if I wudna pinch fifty 'osses to be fetched out o' clink by such a bonny lady, begging your ladyship's pardon."

"She shall fetch you out," said I sourly, "when you're jailed for not stealing."

"His honour's commands are a law unto his handmaiden," said Margaret demurely and icily, addressing him, but aiming point-blank at me. Her shot blew me clean out of the water, and I stood there guggling like a born idiot. "Curse you, will you never get out of your yokel's ways?" said I to myself. It was as if I had said to the sergeant, speaking of Jane, "She shall draw you a mug of beer." I was clean nonplussed, and felt as uncomfortable as a boiling crawfish, but fortunately rattle-pate came to my aid and drowned my confusion in a flood of words.

"And all he said, y'r ladyship, was that Timothy's coat was too big for 'im. Gom, it beat c.o.c.k-fighting, it did. Swelp me bob it did. I never saw a man so staggered as the Mayor, but he's got over it fine, and gone 'ome, good man, with a crick in his back and near on a pint of my best brandy in his belly. When these 'ere wild Highland rappers and renders come, he's just primed up to make 'em a grand speech at bridge yonder, and if that dunna frighten 'em off, nuthin' wull, and my cellars will be as ill filled with beer as Timothy's coat is with brawn. I'm getting the best supper on the Chester road for yer, y'r honour, and that'll mike you feel as bold as sixpence among sixpenn'orth o' coppers. But come along, y'r ladyship. The Colonel's upstairs. Follow me!"