"You may tarry for jugged hare," said Catesby contemptuously. "I shall ride quickly to Dunchurch, and there consult." "Well--if you must, have with you." "Bring some pies in your pocket, Robin, and then you'll not fall to cannibalism on the way," called Catesby after him. "And--hark! ask if any wist the road to Dunchurch, for I know it not." The question was put in vain to all the party. It appeared, when they came up with Catesby, that nobody knew the road to Dunchurch. Guide-posts were a mystery of the future. "We must needs have a guide," said Catesby; "but I am fain at this moment not to show myself in Ashby. Robin, wilt thou win us one? Go thou to Leeson, the smith, at the entering in of the village as thou comest from Ravensthorpe--" "Ay, I know." "Ask him if he will guide us to Dunchurch, and he shall be well paid for it. He is safe, being a Catholic. We will follow anon." Bennet Leeson, the blacksmith at Ashby Saint Ledgers, had given up work for the day, and having gone through some extensive ablutions and the subsequent supper, now stood at his cottage door, looking out on the green and taking his rest. He was not enjoying a pipe, for that was as yet a vice of the city, which had not penetrated to rustic and primitive places such as Ashby Saint Ledgers. A horseman came trotting up the street, and drew bridle at his door. "Give thee good den, smith! Dost know the road to Dunchurch?" Bennet Leeson took off his leather cap, and scratched his head, as if it were necessary to clear a path to his brains before the question could penetrate so far. "Well, I reckon I do, when 'tis wanted. What o' that?" "Wilt guide me thither?" "What, this even?" "Ay, now." Bennet's cap came off again, and he repeated the clearing process on the other side of his head. "I will content thee well for it," said the stranger: "but make up thy mind, for time presseth." A dulcet vision of silver shillings--of which no great number usually came his way--floated before the charmed eyes of the blacksmith. "Well, I shouldn't mind if I did. Tarry while I get my horse." The stranger waited, though rather impatiently, till Bennet reappeared, leading a rough Dunsmoor pony, with a horsecloth tied round it, on which he mounted without saddle. "Now then, my master. Nay, not that way! You're turning your back on Dunchurch so." The horseman checked his hasty, start with a smile, and followed his guide. As they reached the other end of the village, and came out into the open, Catesby and his companions emerged from the trees, and joined Robert Winter. "Him's growed!" said Bennet Leeson to himself, as he glanced round at the increased sound of horses' hoofs. "First time I ever see one man split his self into thirteen. The beast's split his self too. Wonder if them'll ha' come to six-and-twenty by the time us gets at Dunchurch!"