“I’m quite ready.”

Zeb heaved a great sigh like a sob; but only said:—­

“Wait a second while I see that the coast’s clear.”

In less than three minutes the stranger was packed under the evil-smelling weed, drawing breath with difficulty, and listening, when the jolting allowed, to Zeb’s voice as he encouraged the mare.  Jowters’ carts travel fast as a rule, for their load perishes soon, and the distance from the coast to the market is often considerable.  In this case Jessamy went at a round gallop, the loose stones flying from under her hoofs.  Now and then one struck up against the bottom of the cart.  It was hardly pleasant to be rattled at this rate, Heaven knew whither.  But the stranger had chosen his course, and was not the man to change his mind.

After about five minutes of this the cart was pulled up with a scramble, and he heard a voice call out, as it seemed, from the hedge—­

“Well?”

“Right you are,” answered Young Zeb;

“He’s in the front room, pullin’ on his boots.  You’d best look slippy.”

“Where’s the coin?”

“There!” The stranger heard the click of money, as of a purse being caught.  “You’ll find it all right.”

“H’m; best let me count it, though.  One—­two—­three—­four.  I feels it my dooty to tell ye, young man, that it be a dirty trick.  If this didn’t chime in wi’ my goodwill towards his Majesty’s service, be danged if I’d touch the job with a pair o’ tongs!”

“Ay—­but I reckon you’ll do’t, all the same, for t’other half that’s to come when you’ve got en safe an’ sound.  Dirty hands make clean money.”

“Well, well; ye’ve been dirtily sarved.  I’ll see ’ee this arternoon at the ‘Four Lords.’  We’ve orders to sail at five, sharp; so there’s no time to waste.”

“Then I won’t detain ’ee.  Clk, Jessamy!”

The jolting began again, more furiously than ever, as the stranger drew a long breath.  He waited till he judged they must be out of sight, and then began to stir beneath his load of weed.

“Keep quiet,” said Zeb; “you shall get out as soon as we’re up the hill.”

The cart began to move more slowly, and tilted back with a slant that sent the stranger’s heels against the tail-board.  Zeb jumped down and trudged at the side.  The hill was long, and steep from foot to brow; and when at length the slope lessened, the wheels turned off at a sharp angle and began to roll softly over turf.

The weight and smell of the weed were beginning to suffocate the man beneath it, when Zeb called out “Woa-a!” and the mare stopped.

“Now you can come out.”

The other rose on his knees, shook some of his burden off, and blinked in the strong sunlight.

The cart stood on the fringe of a desolate tract of downs, high above the coast.  Over the hedge to the right appeared a long narrow strip of sea.  On the three remaining sides nothing was visible but undulating stretches of brown turf, except where, to northward, the summits of two hills in the heart of the county just topped the rising ground that hid twenty intervening miles of broken plain.