The Black Box: A Tale of Monmouth's RebellionCooke, W. Bourne
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The Black Box: A Tale of Monmouth's Rebellion
Cooke, W. Bourne
Monmouth's Rebellion, 1685 -- Juvenile fiction; Monmouth, James Scott, Duke of, 1649-1685 -- Juvenile fiction
"Ah!" jeered the fellow who had closed it. "You come not over us with
that, young man. Know you that we also have some friends without; not
half a score, but three score--well-armed withal, and zealous in the
cause to boot."
There was ugly truth in that. I thought swiftly for a moment. Yes,
’twas my only chance!
"Fools!" I cried. "You do not know what business I am bent on!"
"Nay, how should we know it?" growled the bridle man. "What is it?"
"Why, such as, if you knew it," I replied, "methinks would make you open
that door with right goodwill."
"Prithee then, tell us what such mighty business is," sneered the other.
"Whom doth it concern?"
"One Robert Ferguson," I answered slowly.
At that the fellows started as though my words had been a pistol barrel.
"Ferguson!" quoth one of them uneasily. "Our godly chaplain!"
I nodded, though more than doubtful of the godliness; and he added:
"Why, then, didst not tell us this before, friend?"
"What now!" I shouted with a show of anger as I sheathed my sword. "Am
I, then, to cry my business out to every brace of thieves I meet?"
"You speak with heat, not knowing," whined the lantern-bearer. "Verily,
we are no thieves, but honest fighters for the cause, seeking horses,
which are sorely lacking. And if we had known the nature of thy
business, we----"
"Fool!" I broke in fiercely. "Cease thy prating, and open that door at
once, or methinks ’twill be the worse for you. One word of this delay
to Dr. Ferguson, and----"
Back flew the door, and, as I moved slowly forward, the opener of it
laid a trembling hand upon my arm, saying:
"Pray you, sir, get not two honest fellows into trouble. ’Twas done in
ignorance."
"I will consider that," I answered sternly, striding beside my mare into
the yard with great relief. Truly, one Ferguson had served my purpose
handsomely!
Turning to the left, in order to avoid the crowded yard, I passed down a
well-known entry, and so came out into a dark and now quite deserted
street.
"That was a narrow squeak, old girl," I whispered, stroking Kitty’s
silken neck, and, as though she understood, the pretty creature whinnied
gently. Then I mounted, and away we fled for home.
In view of what had happened at the stable, I judged it best to keep as
far as possible to by-ways; and so, instead of going through the town
(the nearest road), I struck into a narrow, high-banked lane with
sheltering trees on either side.
’Twas now dusk. Far off I heard the tumult of the town, rising and
falling in a ceaseless hum; but here all seemed silent and deserted.
Yet, even so, it was not long before I proved that Monmouth’s men were
guarding even such unlikely avenues; for just as Kitty, with a hill
before her, dropped into an easy trot, I suddenly made out a group of
fellows gathered near the top, beneath the shadow of a tree.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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