“Never fear, Cousin Stanley,” she returned, “I am too eager for dinner not to come back.  If you fail to have a well-loaded table for me, I shall never speak to you again.”

We then went to the coach, and as the ladies entered it Dorothy said aloud to Dawson:—­

“Drive to Conn’s shop.”

I heard Tod say to his worthy master:—­

“She’s a slippin’ ye.”

“You’re a fool, Tod.  Don’t you see she wants me more than she wants the dinner, and she’s hungry, too.”

“Don’t see,” retorted his laconic friend.

Of course when the coach was well away from the inn, Dawson received new instructions, and took the road to Rowsley.  When the ladies had departed, I went to the tap-room with Stanley, and after paying the host for the coffee, the potatoes, and the dinner which alas! we had not tasted, I ordered a great bowl of sack and proceeded to drink with my allies in the hope that I might make them too drunk to follow us.  Within half an hour I discovered that I was laboring at a hopeless task.  There was great danger that I would be the first to succumb; so I, expressing a wish to sleep off the liquor before the ladies should return, made my escape from the tap-room, mounted my horse, and galloped furiously after Dorothy and Madge.  John was riding by the coach when I overtook it.

It was two hours past noon when I came up with John and the girls.  Snow had been falling softly earlier in the afternoon, but as the day advanced the storm grew in violence.  A cold, bleak wind was blowing from the north, and by reason of the weather and because of the ill condition of the roads, the progress of the coach was so slow that darkness overtook us before we had finished half of our journey to Rowsley.  Upon the fall of night the storm increased in violence, and the snow came in piercing, horizontal shafts which stung like the prick of a needle.

At the hour of six—­I but guessed the time—­John and I, who were riding at the rear of the coach, heard close on our heels the trampling of horses.  I rode forward to Dawson, who was in the coach box, and told him to drive with all the speed he could make.  I informed him that some one was following us, and that I feared highwaymen were on our track.

Hardly had I finished speaking to Dawson when I heard the report of a hand-fusil, back of the coach, near the spot where I had left John.  I quickly drew my sword, though it was a task of no small labor, owing to the numbness of my fingers.  I breathed along the blade to warm it, and then I hastened to John, whom I found in a desperate conflict with three ruffians.  No better swordsman than John ever drew blade, and he was holding his ground in the darkness right gallantly.  When I rode to his rescue, another hand-fusil was discharged, and then another, and I knew that we need have no more fear from bullets, for the three men had discharged their weapons, and they could not reload