Again
I was disappointed. A long, rude post-wagon, pulled by eight horses and
driven by a man on an active little nag, was groaning its way south; a
solitary horseman was ambling north--and that was all I could see.
What had happened to the Colonel? Were the dragoons in the town or not? I
dug my heels into Sultan's flanks and put him to it at his best, and in a
few minutes was on the outskirts of the town.
The town consists in the main of two streets. The High Street is simply
the town part of the main road from the south and Stone to Congleton and
the north--the line along which the Stuart Prince was marching. It
deserves its name, for it lies along the edge of the slope on which the
town lies. Parallel to it in the dip lies Lower Street, and the road I was
on curls past the end of this street and climbs gently to join the upper
road. I could thus get into the heart of the town through the poorer
quarter of it, and soon the kidney-stones of Lower Street rang under
Sultan's hoofs.
The stir and noise of Stafford was completely absent. The townspeople,
mainly hatters by trade, were plying their craft indoors as if no enemy
were at their gate.
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