p. 94She took down a coarse towel from a peg and flung it to me; she pointed to soap upon the bench, “You can wash at the pump,” she said. “Bart’ll go with you. Don’t ’ee go tryin’ to run, young master, now don’t ’ee. For you’ll never get to the wall; and you’ll never climb if you run so far—” and, unlocking the door, pointed, laughing, at the hound chained at the foot of the steps. p. 94 The hound, leaping up, bayed at me; Bart, clattering down the steps, struck at it with his cudgel; it leaped and bayed at him, plunging as though it would snap its chain. He uttered not a word, seeming to take delight in the torment of the savage brute, and beating it back at last into the kennel; though, when I descended, it sprang at me, and, but for my jumping aside, it would have borne me down. Mother Mag laughed shrilly from the door; Bart said not a word or yet a word while he mounted guard over me at the pump. I took it that the fellow was dumb, but, as I plied the towel, I said carelessly, to test him, “How long am I to be held in this ken, lad?” He answered nothing, only swung his cudgel, grinning at me. I took a hasty look about me; the stone wall was built high about the cobbled yard; away from the house were low stone out-buildings; beyond the wall I could see trees dimly through the thinning fog. p. 95I said then, “You’re paid to keep me here. Whatever you’re paid, my friends will pay you more. D’ye understand me? If you’ll take a message to Mr. Bradbury, whom I think to be at Rogues’ Haven—” p. 95 With black and menacing look he gripped my arm, and pointed back to the house. So I must needs tramp back to my prison; though I was tempted to make a dash for freedom, when he loosed my arm, I was debarred by the sight of Martin standing, pistol in hand, by the steps. He, sweeping off his hat with a mocking bow, as I returned, my endurance left me. While the hound raved at me, I cried furiously to Martin, “I warn you all you’ll pay for this. I’ve other friends than Bradbury, who’ll never rest till they’ve found me. By the Lord, you’ll rue the day!” “Brave words,” he sneered. “Blunt’ll make port this day or to-morrow. And you’ll lie snug enough, till you’re set aboard.” I passed by him into the kitchen. Mother Mag had set bread and bacon and a mug of ale on the table for me. I sat down and ate hungrily, while the three watched me from the fireside, saying not a word to me, and the great hound bayed yet without the door.
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