“How now, Captain Stickles?” cried Kirke, the more angry because he had shown his cowardice; “dare you, sir, to come betwixt me and my lawful prisoner?”

“Nay, hearken one moment, Colonel,” replied my old friend Jeremy; and his damaged voice was the sweetest sound I had heard for many a day; “for your own sake, hearken.”  He looked so full of momentous tidings, that Colonel Kirke made a sign to his men not to shoot me till further orders; and then he went aside with Stickles, so that in spite of all my anxiety I could not catch what passed between them.  But I fancied that the name of the Lord Chief-Justice Jeffreys was spoken more than once, and with emphasis and deference.

“Then I leave him in your hands, Captain Stickles,” said Kirke at last, so that all might hear him; and though the news was good for me, the smile of baffled malice made his dark face look most hideous; “and I shall hold you answerable for the custody of this prisoner.”

“Colonel Kirke, I will answer for him,” Master Stickles replied, with a grave bow, and one hand on his breast:  “John Ridd, you are my prisoner.  Follow me, John Ridd.”

Upon that, those precious lambs flocked away, leaving the rope still around me; and some were glad, and some were sorry, not to see me swinging.  Being free of my arms again, I touched my hat to Colonel Kirke, as became his rank and experience; but he did not condescend to return my short salutation, having espied in the distance a prisoner, out of whom he might make money.

I wrung the hand of Jeremy Stickles, for his truth and goodness; and he almost wept (for since his wound he had been a weakened man) as he answered, “Turn for turn, John.  You saved my life from the Doones; and by the mercy of God, I have saved you from a far worse company.  Let your sister Annie know it.”

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CHAPTER LXVI

SUITABLE DEVOTION

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Now Kickums was not like Winnie, any more than a man is like a woman; and so he had not followed my fortunes, except at his own distance.  No doubt but what he felt a certain interest in me; but his interest was not devotion; and man might go his way and be hanged, rather than horse would meet hardship.  Therefore, seeing things to be bad, and his master involved in trouble, what did this horse do but start for the ease and comfort of Plover’s Barrows, and the plentiful ration of oats abiding in his own manger.  For this I do not blame him.  It is the manner of mankind.

But I could not help being very uneasy at the thought of my mother’s discomfort and worry, when she should spy this good horse coming home, without any master, or rider, and I almost hoped that he might be caught (although he was worth at least twenty pounds) by some of the King’s troopers, rather than find his way home, and spread distress among our people.  Yet, knowing his nature, I doubted if any could catch, or catching would keep him.