I scouted ahead, dodging from tree to tree along the edge of the mere, in
order to keep out of view of anyone moving on the road. Over against the
ale-house I crept still more warily through the wood to the edge of the
road. There was no one moving in or about the ramshackle little place, but
there was one unexpected thing in sight which gave me pause. Hitched by
the reins to a staple in the signpost was the finest horse I had ever set
eyes on, a slender, sinewy stallion, champing on his bit and pawing
nervously on the stone-hard ground.
Here was the shadow of a new trouble, though, indeed, there was nothing
to be surprised at, seeing that the countryside far and near was buzzing
with enemy activities. A rat in a barn might as justly complain of being
tickled by straws as I of jostling into difficulties. The horse without
betokened a rider within, and probably some one in the Duke's horse. I
beckoned Mistress Waynflete, and by signs indicated that extreme caution
was necessary. During the moments I was awaiting her I examined the
birding-piece to make sure it was in order. Caution, however, she flung to
the winds, for the moment she set eyes on the horse she joyously shouted
'Sultan' and made a wild, happy dash to cross the road.
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