John Herring: A West of England Romance. Volume 2 (of 3) — John Shaqi
John Herring: A West of England Romance. Volume 2 (of 3)Baring-Gould, S. (Sabine)
General
John Herring: A West of England Romance. Volume 2 (of 3)
Baring-Gould, S. (Sabine)
West Country (England) -- Fiction
Sampson Trampleasure ran to the mine, burst through the assembled
visitors, who tried to arrest him with inquiries after Mr. Flamank, and
about the washings and cradlings and puddlings, and the whips and whims.
He had an oath and a curse for all who stood in his way. He thrust to
the stable, where he saddled and bridled his horse, and, in another
moment, was galloping over the rough road.
The shocked visitors shook their heads, and concluded that there had
been a breakage in the machinery. It did not occur to them that there
had been a break-up of the entire concern. That fact was revealed to
them later by the Rev. Israel Flamank.
Sampson Trampleasure reached the Okehampton road and sped along it in
the Launceston direction. When he had crossed the bridge over the Taw
at Sticklepath, and was ascending the hill on the other side, he looked
back and saw some one on a grey in pursuit. He knew the grey mare—she
belonged to Mr. Battishill, and he was certain that John Herring
bestrode her.
’Ah!’ said Sampson; ’a race between us which shall reach Launceston
first.’
Mr. Battishill’s mare had been a good horse once, but was now old.
Sampson had a young and sound cob under him. The mare would be unable
to endure so long a journey, she must be exchanged at one of the next
stations. Sampson knew he could keep his distance and get first to
Launceston, but that was not sufficient. He must delay Herring long
enough to allow him to see his father, and, with or without his father,
to leave Launceston before Herring rode through its gate. Believing
that he had killed a man, he was in great fear for himself, and he would
not have scrupled to fly without warning his father, but that he was
misapplied with money. He must make for a seaport that same night; an
hour would suffice, if he could gain that.
The sun was setting as he rode over Sourton Down. There was a turnpike
there. He called the man of the bar to him.
’You know me. I am Sampson Trampleasure, junior. I am riding a race
with a gentleman for a wager; my horse is getting beat, and I must
secure a fresh mount at Bridestowe. Here is a guinea; I will give you
four more if you will delay the gentleman a quarter of an hour.’
’All right, sir! We have to go some ways for our tea-water; I’ll fasten
the bar and go for mine.’
Sampson did not wait to hear how Herring was to be detained; he rode as
hard as he could down the hill to Bridestowe, and drew up at the inn
door.
’Here!’ he shouted, ’give my horse some gruel; he is beat. Have you a
horse I can hire, hostler? Mine won’t carry me to Launceston.’
’He’s not done yet,’ said the hostler. ’Most of our osses be gone on wi’
two chaises, but there be one in the stables that be fresh. But how
about getting of her back again?’
’I’ll leave mine if I take her,’ said Sampson. ’I’m back again
to-morrow, and I’ll ride her here.’
’You can look at her,’ said the hostler; ’her ain’t a beauty to look at,
but her can go brave enough.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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