The Yeoman Adventurer

by George W. Gough

  CHAPTER XVII

  MY NEW HAT

  Here was what I had dreamed of. Here was the dearest wish of my heartgratified. I was twenty-three, and I had three-and-twenty's darlingequipment--a magnificent horse, a pair of unerring pistols, a fine rapier,a pocket full of guineas, the memory of a woman's grace and beauty, and atough job in hand. The only material thing I really wanted was a new hat,for yester morning's milk and subsequent bashings and bruisings had ruinedmy old one. I had not bothered about it as long as it had bobbed alongsidethe grey woollen hood of Margaret's domino, but, cheek by jowl with hernew hat, it had become an offence, and must be remedied.

  The black shadow flitted in and out of my mind. I was clean and clear ofall blood-guiltiness. I had struck for Margaret as he would have struckfor Kate. Fate had been too strong for us, but whatever penance lifeshould lay upon me should be paid to the uttermost farthing. I had thiscomfort that, could Jack ride up to me now, there would be no change inhim. There would be for me the old hearty hand-grip and the boyish,affectionate smile, just as when he had run in to me on the town-hallsteps.

  I had been commissioned by the Prince to do three things: first, todeliver a dispatch to my Lord George Murray, wherever I should find him,which would probably be at Ashbourne, twelve miles ahead along a goodroad; second, to carry a letter to Sir James Blount at his house calledEllerton Grange, somewhere near Uttoxeter; third, to make a wide circuitwest and south of Derby, picking up all the information I could as to thefeeling of the populace and the disposition of the enemy's forces, and toreport on this to the Prince in person at Derby at six o'clock thefollowing night. On this third commission the Prince and Colonel Waynfletehad laid great stress. An independent and trustworthy report was, itappeared, of the utmost importance.

  Finally, as a dependent commission arising out of the first of the dutiesimposed on me by the Prince, I bore a letter to my Lord Ogilvie from herladyship. She had summoned me willy-nilly to her room privily.

  "Tell Davie yonder that I'm very well and very, very guid," she said, asshe handed me the letter.

  "With infinite pleasure, my lady," I replied.

  "It will be true, ye ken," she asserted, as if there was a corner fordubiety in her own mind regarding the matter.

  "Solemnly and obviously true, my lady," I agreed.

  "Oh, thou incomparable Oliver, I wish you were a lass," she said, liftingher merry, girlish face level with mine, and putting a hand on each of myshoulders.

  "Why, my lady?" I said, straightening at her touch.

  "Then you could give Davie this as well!" which said, she pecked lightlyat me with her sweet lips and kissed me.

  It had flustered me greatly, but she only laughed ringingly anddelightsomely as I backed out of the room. And when, door-knob in hand, Imade my last bow, she had wagged her finger at me for emphasis and said,"Dinna forget to tell Davie I'm very guid."

  Good she was, as beaten gold, and she kept her spirits up to this highpitch to the very end. You can read in Mr. Volunteer Ray's history of thewhole affair of the 'Forty-five' how, after Culloden, she was takenprisoner while dressing for the ball which was to crown the expectedvictory.

  I smiled a young man's smile as I thought of it. Experience was writingsome items on the credit side of my new account with life. I had met awinsome lady of title and she had kissed me. Margaret, behind my back andto a third party, had called me an "incomparable" something. What, I knewnot,--"servant" probably, but I cared not what.

  Mile after mile passed without incident of any kind until, at a second'snotice, I rode into a ring of muskets which closed round me out of vacancyas if by magic. It was the outermost picket of the army at Ashbourne. Igave the parole, "Henry and Newcastle," and demanded a guide to my LordGeorge Murray's quarters. There came a Gaelic grunt out of the gloom; menand muskets disappeared, with the exception of a single clansman, whoseized Sultan's bridle and led me into the town.

  The General was quartered at the "Swan with Two Necks," a veryrespectable hostelry, where my first care was to have a cloth thrown overSultan, and to order for him a bucket of warm small beer with three orfour handfuls of oatmeal stirred into it. While this was adoing, and I wasawaiting a summons to his lordship's presence, I took a nip of brandy inthe public room of the inn, and over it amused myself by reading a crudefly-sheet nailed on the wall, offering a reward of fifty guineas to anyonegiving information leading to the arrest of one Samuel Nixon, commonlycalled 'Swift Nicks,' a notorious highwayman, six feet high, of verygenteel appearance, well-spoken, but a cruel, bloody ruffian with it all.The Highlander interrupted my reading by beckoning me to follow him.Upstairs we went, and he ushered me into a room where were two gentlemenseated on opposite sides of a table on which were a small map and twolarge glasses containing a yellowish liquid.

  The younger of them was of much the same general appearance asMaclachlan, though by the look of him a simpler and sweeter man. Theother, a middle-aged, domineering man with a powerful face, looked angrilyat me as I handed him my dispatch.

  He read it impatiently, threw it down beside the map, and said, "They'recoming on to-night, Davie." Then, curtly to me, "Your name, sir?"

  "Wheatman of the Hanyards."

  "Hanyards? Humph! Are you an Irishman?"

  "No, my lord. Not even a Scotchman!"

  He glared at me, but his companion laughed, and said, "That's one underyour short ribs, Geordie!"

  "Damn the Irish!" cried Murray. "They're the ruination of the wholebusiness, Davie, and ye know it."

  "Of course they are," he replied, "but that's no reason for telling it toan English loon who thinks less of a Scotchman than he does of a pickeltherring."

  "That may be, my lord," said I to him, "but I think so well of oneScottish lady that I'm proud to be her humble courier." And I handed himhis letter.

  "Man! man!" he said ecstatically, as he ripped it open, "ye're welcome assunshine in December. It's from Ishbel. God bless her pretty face!"

  He read the letter eagerly and then thrust it into his bosom.

  "I am, further," I went on, "entrusted with a message from her ladyship."

  "God bless her! Out with it, man, out with it!"

  "I was to inform you that she was very, very good," said I, soberly as ajudge passing sentence.

  "What do you think of that, Geordie Murray? Very, very guid! Eh, man,isn't she a monkey? God bless her!"

  "I'll send the whole lot of 'em packing off back to Edinburgh," saidMurray. "Women are a nuisance on a campaign. Your Ishbel, be hanged toher, wants a carriage all her own and another for her fineries."

  "Ye ken a lot about soldiering, Geordie," retorted Ogilvie, "no man more,but ye ken less about soldiers than a lad of ten. At Gladsmuir I said toMacIntosh, 'Let's get the damn thing over, Sandy, and be back to breakfastwi' the leddies!' And we did."

  "You did so," acknowledged Murray. "Now, Davie, take our courier out andfeed him. I thank you, sir! You have ridden speedily. Your pace is fasterthan your tongue."

  "My lord," said I, "although I am doing his Royal Highness such poorservice as lies in me, I am not yet duly acting under his commission andauthority."

  "What of it?" he asked.

  "Hence I am not an officer under your command, my lord!"

  "Excellent logic! And the therefore, my beef-eating friend, is....?"

  "That I would as lief knock your head off as look at you!"

  "When you are an officer," cried he, "by gad, sir, I'll teach ye themanners of an officer. Till then, my birkie," rising and holding out hishand, "guid luck to ye!"

  We shook hands heartily and so parted.

  "He's a grand man is Geordie Murray," said Ogilvie, as he led me toanother room across the landing. "Just a wee bit birsy, maybe, but thesedamned Irish have got his kail through the reek. They're o'ermuch on hisspirits of late."

  All his other talk was of his lady, though he looked well enough afterme, and I made a good meal of the better half of a cold chicken, a cottageloaf, and a tankard of poor al
e. Ashbourne is noted, say the wise in suchmatters, for the best malt and the poorest ale in England.

  I am overmuch English, as is often the case with us who live in the veryheart of England. The famous Mr. Johnson is a shire-fellow of mine, andvery proud I am of it, and reckon it among the greatest events of my lifethat he has bullyragged me soundly for differing from him, and beingright, about a line of Virgil he had misquoted in my hearing. Like Mr.Johnson, I love men and loathe dancing-masters, and these Scotsmen weremen indeed, my Lord Ogilvie, as I came to know later, one of the choicest.He was a spare-built man, in years thirty or thereabouts, with a face alllines and angles, and dotted with pock-marks. For a lord, his purse wasvery bare of guineas, and nature had made up for it by giving him a bellyfull of pride. For him, the Highland line had been the boundary of theknown world, so that his mind was a chequer-work of curious ignorance andknowledge.

  From the first I liked him for his joy in his dainty lady. She was thedaughter of a cadet of a distant branch of the famous Bobbing John'sfamily, and had spent nearly all her life in France till, on a chancevisit to Scotland, she had been snapped up by Ogilvie. They were astrangely matched pair, she from the gay _salons_ of Paris, he fromthe misty mountains of the north; but mutual love had assorted them toadmiration, for the heart of each was sound as a bell.

  Between bites I answered questions as to how she had looked, what she'dsaid, done, and so forth.

  "Was she wearing her brown riding-coat with the pretty wee shouldercapes?" he asked.

  "No," said I, becoming more interested.

  "Or her creamy dress with the gold flowers all over it?"

  "No," said I again, smiling at my discoveries.

  "She's keeping 'em for London," he explained. "Gosh, man! She will lookdivine in 'em."

  "She won't," said I, clipping away at the sweet bits still hanging on thecarcass of my chicken.

  "It'll take your logic all its time to keep six inches o' cauld steel outof your brisket," he said very fiercely.

  "Never had better chicken in my life," said I, watching him out of oneeye--quite enough for any Scotsman.

  "Damn the chicken!" he roared. "Why won't she?"

  "Because she's given 'em away," I explained in my airiest tones.

  "The blue blazes of hell!" gasped his lordship. "Given 'em away, and theycost me twenty pounds English! Given 'em away!" he whined, utterly lostfor words, "given 'em away! The callack's clean dawpit. Twenty pounds goodEnglish money!"

  "Nothing like enough!" said I. "You'll be sorry it wasn't two hundred."

  Two hundred pounds English was, however, something too stupendous for hismind to grasp, and the gibe had no effect on him. While I finished my alehe chuntered away in his own Gaelic.

  "I'll mak' it up in London," he said at length, "but it'll be the deil'sown job."

  "It will indeed," I agreed, and drained my tankard dry.

  A look at my watch told me it was time to set about my second commission.Sultan was brought from the stable, fit as a fiddle and eager to be going.I examined my pistols, ran the tuck up and down in its scabbard, leaped onSultan, and asked for the Uttoxeter road.

  My Lord Ogilvie parted from me on the fairest terms, bringing me with hisown hands a great stirrup-cup, or "dock-an-torus," as he called it.

  "Man," said he, "I'm right glad to be acquent wi' ye. I was thinking I'dgang all the way to London without coming across a man worth fighting,much less friending, but I was in the wrang of it. Here's to ye!"

  "My lord," said I, "you match your sweet lady. Both of you have beenwondrous kind to a hard-hit man."

  We gripped hands, saluted, and parted.

  It was all but pitch-dark, and the moon was not due to rise for more thanan hour, but the sky was clear and the stars were out in masses forcompany and guidance. Ellerton Grange was near Uttoxeter, and Uttoxeterwas a sizeable townlet just inside my own county, and some fifteen milesfrom Ashbourne. The road was the usual cross-road, all of it bad and mostof it vile. I left the going to Sultan, who did the best he could, likethe gallant and experienced creature he was. There was nothing for me todo except to keep a good look out and the north star just behind my righthand.

  My mind was busy going over all the memories of the last three days. Itried hard, but in vain, to skip the black part, the thought of which mademe flinch as if the branding-iron was white-hot against my cheek. MentallyI saw double--Jack's red blood with one eye and Margaret's amber hair withthe other. As I rode I fought memory with memory, mingling gall and honey,now mumbling broken prayers and now singing snatches of countrylove-songs, and so got on as best I could. In the journey of life a manpays for what he calls for. Life had given me what I wanted, and the pricethereof had been death.

  Not only was the night dark but the countryside was empty. I rode pastdim outlines of houses and through vague, dreamlike villages withoutseeing a soul or hearing a sound. Once I saw a light ahead by theroadside, but out it went as the rattle of Sultan's hoofs told of mycoming. It was no wonder, for these poor folk were living between twoarmies and wanted neither, friend nor foe. For them it was only a choicebetween the upper and the nether millstone. At last I came to a waysideale-house where lights were showing. I rode up, dismounted, ran the reinsover the catch of the shutter, and went in.

  In the low, untidy room I found a man and a woman, bent over a miserablefire, with their backs to a table whereon were set out mug and platter andother things useful for a meal. They rose to greet me, and their facestold me that they were expecting some one and supposed that I was he. Whenthey saw their mistake, the woman stepped smartly in front of the man andsaid, "Lord, sir, how you frighted us! What can I get for your worship?"

  "A mug of good mulled ale," said I. "Give me good mulled ale and a littleinformation, and you shall have a crown for your pains."

  I spoke pleasantly, having no need, as a mere passer-by, to do otherwise,but if I had been obliged to have dealings with them, I should have begunby distrusting them outright. The man was of the common sort of ale-housekeeper, ugly, beery, and stupid, and old enough to be the father of hiswife, as I call her on account of the wedding ring on her finger. She was,for the place and post, a complete surprise, being a jaunty, townish,garish woman, dressed in decayed finery. He would have slit my throat fora groat, she for a grudge. They looked that sort.

  The woman went into another room, beyond the little bar where thedrinkables were stored, to get the spices for the mulling, and the manshuffled grumpily after her. Hanging on the wall behind the bar was afly-sheet, the very same I had read in the "Swan with Two Necks" atAshbourne.

  "Swift Nicks" was a much-wanted gentleman, and evidently a tobie-man witha wide range of activities. Out of mere vacancy of mind I walked near toread the fly-sheet again, and, by a curious chance, among the drone ofwords from the other room, the only one my quick ear could pick outdistinctly was "Nicks."

  This made me wary, and when the woman came out and busied herself at thefire, and called me to see what a prime mull she was brewing, I stood overher, to all intent watching the process but ready for anything. And notwithout need, for her dirty husband crept softly out after her, thinkingto catch me unawares. I flashed at him like a jack at a minnow, wrenched awretched old blunderbuss out of his hands, and with the butt of it knockedhim sprawling back into the other room.

  The prime muller merely cackled with false laughter and went on with hermulling. I fetched him in by the scruff of the neck, stood him up againstthe bar, and said, "I think you're in for the soundest thrashing you'veever had in your life."

  "Sarves yer right, sawney," said the woman. "Plase let him off, sir. Hethought yow was Swift Nicks."

  "Yow bitch!" he growled. "Yow set me on!"

  "Yow'm a ligger!" she retorted. "I towd yow the gen'leman was nowt likeSwift Nicks."

  "How do you know that?" I asked.

  "By the print," was the quick reply. "It tells yow all about him."

  I fetched the fly-sheet down, held it out to her, and said sharply, "
Readit to me!"

  I thought this would clean beat her, but she said, simply enough, "Icanna rade it mysen, but I've heard it read lots o' times."

  "Have you heard it read?" I asked the man.

  "Lots o' times," he echoed surlily, and I saw the woman's fingers twitchas if she longed to furrow his ugly face with her nails.

  "Then why didn't you know?"

  I spoke to him but turned sharp on the woman, and saw hell in her face.She was almost too quick for me, and answered fawningly, "The thought o'the money made a fool on 'im, sir. Plase let him off. I've mulled th' aleprime for her honour."

  This was true and I enjoyed it greatly. I sent the man out to rub Sultandown while she prepared for him under my eyes a warm drench of ale andmeal.

  "Be y'r honour going far?" she asked.

  "That depends how far it is to Ellerton Grange. Do you know it?"

  "Oh aye, y'r honour. Sir James Blount lives there. It's three miles out'nTutcheter on the Burton road."

  "Is it a straight road to Uttoxeter?"

  "Half a mile on yow'll come to a fork. Tek the road on the right and justride after y'r nose. Fetch the drench, Bob!"

  She carried it off well, but I felt there was a deep strain of roguery inher. Still, willing to part on a lighter note, I gave her the crown,saying, "You deserve a better trade."

  "It's none so bad," she said.

  "And a better husband."

  "Oddones! D'ye think...."

  She stopped abruptly, plainly caught out for the first time.

  A minute later I was off again. At the fork Sultan made for the left, andI had to pull him sharply to the right. The road got steadily worse, butOrion was clear in view ahead of me, dropping down behind Uttoxeter, and Ipushed on. If a man is to turn back because of a bad road, he'll nottravel far in the Shires. Soon, however, there was no road at all, and Iwas plump in open country. Sultan stopped and sniffed, and then turned hishead round as if to tell me, what I already felt was the truth, that I hadbeen an ass for not leaving it to him.

  "So ho! Sultan!" said I, patting his warm neck. "I deserve all you say,my beauty! I've put you in for a nice job."

  The right road must lie somewhere to my left. I turned him that way andhe walked on suspicious and sniffing. Fortunately the moon had risen, andthe Jezebel's lie would only cost me a trifling delay. She would have liedwith a purpose, and I puzzled myself in trying to reason it out. In a fewminutes we came to the side of a spinney with a low wall of rough stonescutting it off from the field. I was intently looking ahead, when on asudden Sultan swerved so powerfully that I rocked in the saddle. Iwouldn't have touched him with the spur, short of utter necessity, for afistful of guineas, and I soothed him, and then turned to look for whathad upset him.

  To be candid I swerved myself. Most of us in these days are pleased tolaugh at superstitions, provided we are in good company round a roaringfire. I was here alone in a lonely field, at nine of the clock on a winternight, and there, flittering and gliding through the spinney was asomething in white. Virgil believed in ghosts, and so did Joe Braggs, andI, by oft reading the one and listening to the other, had preserved anopen mind. Apparently Sultan had his doubts, for he shivered and whinnied.

  I pulled his head round away from the ghost, drew out a pistol, andwatched the unchancy thing's movements. It was evidently meant for me, forit made a slight turn and came straight towards me. Then my man's logic,as Margaret twittingly called it, came to my aid. Gloomy as it was, I sawthe outlines of some steps by which the low wall could be crossed, andghosts, both my authorities being in agreement on this, were independentof such purely human contrivances. So, waiting till the ghost was climbingdown on my side, I said sternly, "Stop, or I fire!" Whereon it heaved agreat sob and tumbled full length to the ground.

  I jumped down, slipped the reins over Sultan's head, and pulled him up tothe spot. The ghost was a well-grown girl, dressed in nothing but a whitenight-gown, for I could see her bare feet beyond the hem of it.

  "Don't be afraid, dear," said I soothingly, for she was dumb and halfdead with fright. "What can I do for you? Say it, and it's done. Come now,be brave!"

  She sat up, leaning on her right hand, and turned her pallid, quiveringface up to mine.

  "Robbers, sir!" she gasped. "They're murdering father and mother. ForGod's sake, sir, go and stop them."

  "Of course," I replied cheerfully, slipping off my jacket. "Come on, mybrave lass!"

  I helped the lass to her feet, put her into my jacket, jumped into thesaddle, and lifted her astride behind me.

  "Clip me tight! Which way?"

  "Round the spinney first, sir!"

  Off we went, and this time I touched Sultan with the spur and he flewalong. Round the spinney; slantways across a field; up and over a gate,the girl clinging to me like a leech; down a lane; up and over anothergate; and then the girl's shaking right arm was thrust over my shoulder.

  "There's th' ouse! 0', God, if we anna in time!"

  "How many are there?"

  "Two, sir."

  I pulled Sultan up at the farmyard gate, helped her down, and jumpedafter her. Hitching the horse, we started across the yard.

  Luckily the low-down moon was on the far side of the house, and we couldrun softly up in the pitch dark. As I write I feel that brave girl's hardgrip of my hand as we raced on. At a half-open door we halted; she loosedhold of me, and I tiptoed on alone. From within I heard the crash of onepot and then another on the brick floor of the kitchen, as the villain,searching for hidden money, smashed them to the ground. Bitten to thevitals by his want of success, he yelled, "I'll burn the sow's eye out!That'll open her mouth."

  With wrath flaming in my heart I stepped into the doorway leading to thekitchen. My eyes lit on a poor woman bound hard and fast in a chair, and amasked beast, his big white teeth showing through lips thrust wide apartin a grin of hellish rage, approaching a red-hot poker towards her face. Ishot him, and he tumbled into a squirming heap. The other villain racedfor dear life through the open front door. My second bullet got him on thevery threshold, for he yelped and sprang into the air like a strickenbuck, but he held on. I e'en let him go, not daring to leave the unkilledscoundrel on the floor, for he had a regular battery of pistols in hisbelt. The girl was already untying her mother, and her father, bound andgagged in his chair in the ingle-nook, could bide a while. So I pluckedthe pistols out, there were six of them, and rattled them down on thetable. The man was bleeding like a stuck pig, and his purpling face andheaving throat showed that he was choking. As I destined him for thegallows, I picked him up, flung him face down on the table, and thumpedhim violently in the back, whereupon he coughed up a tooth. My bullet hadstripped out all his grinning front teeth clean and clear, just as ourKate's dainty thumb strips the row of peas out of a peascod. Once thetooth was up he was not greatly hurt, and, holding one of his own pistolsto his head, I bade him unstrap the farmer. As soon as the latter wasfree, I ordered him to strap the robber to a kitchen chair, which he didvery thoroughly. The instant this job was done, he leaped to fondle andhearten his wife. She kissed him back and, without a word, feebly pointedto me, whereupon he turned and thanked me.

  "Thank your brave daughter," said I, and then he jumped at her and huggedher in his big arms, blubbing out, "My bonny, bonny Nance!"

  At my wish he lit a lantern, and we went out and stabled Sultan. We wentback through the kitchen to make a search of the front of the house. Apretty sight awaited me within doors. The good wife was sipping at a cupof parsnip wine, and the girl was again wearing nothing but hernightdress. With crimson face and downcast eyes, she stood there holdingmy coat out.

  "Hallo, ghostie!" said I, smiling at her. "You want to frighten me again,do you?"

  Too confused to say a word, she lackeyed me into my coat and then ranupstairs. To cut short her mother's tearful thanks, I led the way to thedoor, and we started our examination.

  Some two yards from the door-sill the feeble rays of the lantern werereflected from something on
the ground. To my great satisfaction it wasfair booty to me, nothing less than my closest need, a rare good hat madeof the finest beaver. The band was buckled with gold, and there was ataking and surely very fashionable cock to the brim. I sent my old onespinning into the blackness and clapped my new treasure on my head. Now Icould walk side by side with Margaret and not be ashamed, at any rate notof my hat.

  "The rogue jerked it off when I winged him," said I.

  "Gom! He did jump, that's sartin," said the farmer, whose name, I oughtto say, I had learned was Job Lousely.

  It was quite a step down to the road, and we made no further discoverytill we got to the gate. Here it was his turn to be lucky, for there wasan excellent nag hitched to a rail. It was on Job's ground and he gave ita home in his stable.

  "It'll mak up for the crockery," he said, with great delight.

  Back in the kitchen we found Nance fully dressed and busy laying a mealon the table. She was so taken aback when I declared I was not hungry andcouldn't stay if I had been, that, to save her distress, I had a bite anda sup of ale, while Job fetched Sultan round to the door. She was a sweet,comely maiden, and it did my heart good to see her put a horn of ale tothe bleeding lips of the robber. He drank ravenously, like a dog after ahard run. He was where he deserved to be, with his feet in the short,straight path to the gallows, and I pitied him not. Nance did, and it'sgood for the world that women are made that way.

  "How far is it to Ellerton Grange?" I asked Job, who came in to tell meSultan was ready.

  "A matter of six miles, sir. Three from here to Tutcheter, and three moreon to the Grange."

  "How funny, father," interposed Nance. "This is the second time tonight agentleman has asked the road to Ellerton Grange."

  It would hardly have struck Job as funny if it had been thetwenty-second, but Nance was quick and shrewd.

  "Ho! Ho!" said I. "Tell me about it, little woman!"

  "I was wishing my Jim good night at the gate, just before father camehome, when a man riding by pulled up and asked the road to EllertonGrange."

  "Did you make him out, Nance?" I asked.

  "Not much of him, sir, but the moon shone on his face when he took hishat off to wipe his forehead, and it looked for all the world like anaddled duck-egg."

  "Well put, Nance," said I, laughing. "First time I saw that face Ithought it was like a bladder of lard."

  "You know him, sir?"

  "I think I do, Nance, and I must be after him."

  Out of the robber's string of pistols I selected a pair for myself. Theywere lawful prize, and equal in quality to those Master Freake had givenme, so that the rascal had probably stolen them. I saw that all the otherswere loaded, and advised Job to watch him all night and to lift him, chairand all, into a cart the next morning and drive him off to the nearestJustice.

  Job and his wife renewed their thanks when I was in the saddle. Nanceinsisted on coming to open the gate, and on the way there she gave me fulland careful directions as to the way to Tutcheter and thence to the Grange.

  She swung the gate open and let me through. Then she came to my swordside and held up her face to be kissed.

  "Good-bye, ghostie!"

  "Good-bye, sir! God bless you!"

  Kissing and blessing were reward enough for my service, and I rode onlighter at heart for them.