In Honour's Cause Part 76

It is not as if I were going to try and save myself. I'll stand by him, weak boy as I am. Or no; shall I not be escaping with my father?"

He shook his head the next moment, and felt that he could not be of the rescuing party. He must still be the Prince's page, and return to the Palace to bear his mother the news of the escape.

"For he will--he must escape," thought the boy. "Drew's friends will be out in force to-night, and I shall be able to go back and tell her that he is safe."

As they rode on through the pleasant dark night Frank thought more of the peril into which his companion was going, and hesitated about telling him, so that he might be warned; but again he shrank from speaking, for fear that it might mean disaster to Drew's projects.

"And he has his father to save as well as mine. I can't warn him," he concluded. "I run the risk as well as he."

He felt better satisfied the next minute, as he glanced sidewise at the bold, manly bearing of the captain, mounted on the splendid, well-trained charger.

"Captain Murray can take care of himself," he thought; and the feelings which were shut within his breast grew into a sensation of excitement that was almost pleasurable.

"Quite countrified out here, Frank," said the captain suddenly, as the road began to ascend; and after pa.s.sing Highbury the houses grew scarce, being for the most part citizens' mansions. "Don't be down-hearted, my lad. The law is very curious. It is a strong castle for our defence, but full of loopholes by which a man may escape."

"Escape?" cried Frank excitedly. "You think he may escape?"

"I hope so, and I'd give something now if my oaths were not taken, and I could do something in the way of striking a blow for your father's liberty."

For a few minutes the boy felt eagerly ready to confess all he knew; but the words which had raised the desire served also to check it. "If my oaths were not taken," Captain Murray had said; and he was the very soul of honour, and would not break his allegiance to his King.

"My father did," thought the boy sadly. Then he brightened. "No," he thought, "the King broke it, and set him free by banis.h.i.+ng him from his service."

"How do you get on with your horse, lad?--Walk." The horses changed their pace at the word. The hill was getting steep.

"Oh, I get on capitally. It's like sitting in an easy-chair. I haven't been on a horse for a year."

"Then you learned to ride well, Frank. Find the advantage of having your boots, though. Fancy a ride like this in silk stockings and shoes!--You ought to go into the cavalry some day."

Frank sighed.

"Bah! Don't look at the future as being all black, boy. Stick to Hope, the lady who carries the anchor. One never knows what may turn up."

"No, one never knows what may turn up," cried the boy excitedly; and then he checked himself in dread lest his companion should read his thoughts respecting the rescue. But the captain's next words set him at rest.

"That's right, my lad. Try and keep a stout heart. Steep hill this.

Do you know where we are?"

"Only that we are on the great north road."

"Yes. When we are on the top of this hill, we shall be in the village of Highgate; and if it was daylight, we could see all London if we looked back, and the country right away if we looked forward. I propose to stop at the top of the hill and wait."

"Yes," said Frank eagerly.

"Perhaps go on for a quarter of a mile, so as to be where we are not observed."

The horses were kept at a walking pace till the village was reached, and here a gate was stretched across, and a man came out to take the toll, Frank noticing that he examined them keenly by the light of a lanthorn.

"Any one pa.s.sed lately--hors.e.m.e.n and carriages?" said the captain quietly.

The man chuckled.

"Yes, a couple of your kidney," said the man. "You're too late."

A pang shot through Frank, and he leaned forward.

"Too late? What do you mean, sir?" cried the captain sharply; and, as he spoke, he threw back his horseman's cloak, showing his uniform slightly.

"Oh, I beg your wors.h.i.+ps' pardon. I took you for gentlemen of the road."

"What, highwaymen?"

"Yes, sir. A couple of them went by not ten minutes ago. But I don't suppose they'll try to stop you. They don't like catching Tartars. Be as well to have your pistols handy, though."

"Thank you for the hint," said the captain, and they rode on.

"What do you say, Frank?" said the captain. "Shall we go any farther?

It would be an awkward experience for you if we were stopped by highwaymen. Shall we stop?"

"Oh, we cannot stop to think about men like that," said Frank excitedly.

"Not afraid, then?"

"I'm afraid we shall not meet the prisoners," said the boy sadly.

"Forward, then. But unfasten the cover of your holsters. You will find loaded pistols there, and can take one out if we are stopped--I mean if any one tries to stop us. But," he added grimly, "I don't think any one will."

At another time it would have set the boy trembling with excitement; but his mind was too full of the object of their expedition, and as the horses paced on the warning about the gentlemen who infested the main roads in those days was forgotten, so that a few minutes later it came as a surprise to the boy when a couple of hors.e.m.e.n suddenly appeared from beneath a clump of trees by the roadside, came into the middle of the road, and barred their way.

"Realm?" said one of the men sharply.

"Keep off, or I fire," cried Captain Murray.

The two mounted men reined back on the instant, and, pistol in hand, the captain and Frank went on at a walk.

"I don't think--nay, I'm sure--that those men are not on the road, Frank," said the captain quietly. "That was a pa.s.sword. _Realm_. Can they be friends of the prisoners sent forward as scouts?"

"Do you think so?" said Frank.

"Yes," replied the captain thoughtfully; "and if they are, we are quite right. The prisoners have not pa.s.sed, and I should not wonder if there were an attempt made to rescue them before they reach town."

Frank's head began to buzz, and he nipped his horse so tightly that the animal broke into a trot.

"Steady! Walk," cried the captain; and the next minute he drew rein, to sit peering forward into the darkness, listening for the tramp of horses, which ought to have been heard for a mile or two upon so still a night.

"Can't hear them," he said in a disappointed tone. "But we will not go any farther."

At that moment Frank's horse uttered a loud challenging neigh, which was answered from about a hundred yards off, and this was followed by another, and another farther away still.