“Damn it!” says Dan’l Best and the Prince Regent, both in one breath.

“Hulloa!  Be you here still?” says the Prince, turning sharp round at the sound of Dan’l’s voice.  “And what be you waiting for?”

“For my brother Hughie’s reprieve,” says Dan’l.

“Well, but ’tis too late now, anyway,” says the Prince.

“I’ll bet ’tis not,” says Dan’l, “if you’ll look slippy and make out the paper.”

“You can’t do it.  ’Tis over two hundred and fifty miles, and you can’t travel ten miles an hour all the way like the coach.”

“It’ll reach Tregarrick to-morrow night,” says Dan’l, “an’ they won’t hang Hughie till seven in the morning.  So I’ve an hour or two to spare, and being a post-boy myself, I know the ropes.”

“Well,” says his Royal Highness, “I’m in a very good temper because of this here glorious storming of St. Sebastian.  So I’ll wager your brother’s life you don’t get there in time to stop the execution.”

“Done with you, O King!” says Dan’l, and the reprieve was made out, quick as lightning.

Well, sir, Dan’l knew the ropes, as he said; and moreover, I reckon there was a kind of freemasonry among post-boys; and the two together, taken with his knowledge o’ horseflesh, helped him down the road as never a man was helped before or since.  ’Twas striking nine at night when he started out of London with the reprieve in his pocket, and by half-past five in the morning he spied Salisbury spire lifting out of the morning light.  There was some hitch here—­the first he met—­in getting a relay; but by six he was off again, and passed through Exeter early in the afternoon.  Down came a heavy rain as the evening drew in, and before he reached Okehampton the roads were like a bog.  Here it was that the anguish began, and of course to Dan’l, who found himself for the first time in his life sitting in the chaise instead of in the saddle, ’twas the deuce’s own torment to hold himself still, feel the time slipping away, and not be riding and getting every ounce out of the beasts:  though, even to his eye, the rider in front was no fool.  But at Launceston soon after daybreak he met with a misfortune indeed.  A lot of folks had driven down overnight to Tregarrick to witness the day’s sad doings, and there wasn’t a chaise to be had in the town for love or money.

“What do I want with a chaise?” said Dan’l, for of course he was in his own country now, and everybody knew him.  “For the love of God, give me a horse that’ll take me into Tregarrick before seven and save Hughie’s life!  Man, I’ve got a reprieve!”

“Dear lad, is that so?” said the landlord, who had come down, and was standing by the hotel door in nightcap and bedgown.  “I thought, maybe, you was hurrying to see the last of your brother.  Well, there’s but one horse left in stable, and that’s the grey your master sold me two months back; and he’s a screw, as you must know.  But here’s the stable key.  Run and take him out yourself, and God go with ’ee!”