110borne backwards; on the instant came Roger Galt, riding thunderously upon them. His riding-whip cracked upon Bart’s head; his horse nigh trod Martin down; Roger’s great hand gripped my collar, and swung me up before him. p. 110 Martin was screeching, “Galt! You’ll hang for this! Galt! Damn you! Stop!” His pistol cracked after us, as Roger, turning his horse, set him at full speed from the house. After us they came pell-mell,—Martin and Blunt and his crew; I heard shots and their roaring voices. The gate was barred against us; swinging back under the wall, Roger Galt suddenly put his horse to it, and with a shock that almost drove my senses from me, the horse brought us safely over. We were away then at a gallop, and the clamour from the Stone House was dying on the wind. p. 111Chapter XIV. Modesty of Mr. Galt p. 111 Roger Galt was laughing triumphantly. He roared in my ear, “So you’ll not go sailing overseas yet awhile, John Craike, to pleasure Uncle Charles. Blunt’ll never earn his guineas for your kidnapping.” “Thanks to you! Will they come after us, do you think?” “There’s not a man among ’em has a horse can match mine. Save Martin! And he’ll not dare. I vow by now Martin’s gallopin’ like the devil to Craike House with the bad news for Charles.” “Yes, and you’re like to suffer for it at Craike’s hands.” He answered lugubriously, “Ay, I’m like to suffer for it if I remain in this part of the country. But I’ll be riding elsewhere,—when I’ve set you down. I’m not so much afraid of Craike or aught that he may do, that I’ll dance to his fiddling always.” “Why d’ye help me now?” “For no more than knowin’ that you’re Dick Craike’s son.” p. 112“He was your friend?” p. 112 “Ay, friend and master.”
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