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
*The Affair at the Barn*
As the day grew older and a blazing sun climbed up behind me the heat
upon my back became wellnigh unbearable, and a decorous walk was all
that Kitty made of it, nor did I wish for more. I was well ahead of
Monmouth--therefore of friend Ferguson--and could bide my time.
As I passed along the shady lanes thus leisurely, you may be sure I had
continual thought for Tubal Ammon, and when the sound of beast or bird
disturbed the leafy silence, my eyes and ears were swiftly turned in
that direction. But no harm came of it, and beyond some honest farm
hands, who, too wise to change scythe for sword, were laying low the
tall, rich grass with measured swing and swish, I chanced on no one.
Doubtless the chief reason of this was that, both for purposes of shade
and solitude, I kept to bypaths and eschewed the highway. Also, I
strove to keep as near the sea as possible, in order that what little
breeze there was therefrom might make things more endurable.
But such slow, winding methods take much time, and so, what with that
and many stoppages for Kitty’s sake, ’twas close on noon ere we had put,
maybe, twenty miles behind us, which, reckoning for byways, was little
more than half the distance to be covered.
The sun was now at its meridian, and beating down upon us with a fiery
heat which threatened danger to my mare, if not to me, for we had now
drawn clear of sheltering lanes and come out on a stretch of treeless
moorland which ran for miles along the coast. Here the hot air fairly
danced above the scorched-up grass and bushes, and naught was to be
heard except the languid hum of bees among the gorse. The very sea
seemed hushed to languorous silence.
To press on in such a state were cruelty to man and beast, therefore I
called a halt and looked about me for some shady place in which to rest.
But this was easier sought than found. As far as eye could reach, the
barren moor rolled on beneath the shimmering heat, with nothing taller
than a stunted thorn bush visible.
As I sat gazing wearily upon this arid sight, while Kitty pawed the turf
impatiently and cursed distracting flies (so far as horse was able) with
her ears and tail, I saw, far off, a man dart straight across the track
and disappear as though the earth had swallowed him, upon the other
side.
So quickly had he vanished in a place thus bare of cover that I watched
the spot expectantly with shaded eyes, feeling certain he must come to
view again. But nothing came of it; indeed, it might have been a rabbit
which had gone to earth for any more I saw of him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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