The whole Ridgeway was alive with holiday folk, some walking with their coats and bonnets off, some in great wagons, some in all sorts of strange vehicles, such as I had never seen before (many of which Master George declared had been impressed by Alfred’s commissariat and hospital staff, in his wars against the Danes, when they were strong young traps); but from one and all there rose up a hum of broad Berkshire, and merry laughter, as we shot by them. Sometimes a yeoman in his gig, or on his stout hackney, would try to keep up with us, or to stop us from passing him, but Master George was a reckless driver, and somehow or another, galloping or trotting, on the right side or the wrong, he _would_ pass; so in about ten minutes we had got over the two miles of downs, and were close up to the Castle. Here the first thing I saw was Joe, with two other farmers, carrying a lot of little white and pink flags, and measuring ground. “Please put me down, Sir,” said I, “there’s my friend.” “Ah, yes,” said Master George, pulling up, “I see--you’re staying with Farmer Hurst. Well, I’m much obliged to you for helping poor old Betty--she’s a good struggling old widow body in our village; I’ve known her ever since I could walk and suck. Good morning, Mr. Hurst; likely to be a good muster to-day.” “Mornin’, Sir,” said Joe, touching his hat, “I think so--there’s a smart lot of folk in the Castle already.” “Well, I hope we may meet again,” said Master George to me, “I won’t forget the song for you,”--and away he drove towards the Castle. “Why, Dick man, where’s the old horse?” said Joe, looking as if I had come from the moon. “Oh, I walked,” said I, “I prefer it, when I have time.” “Come own it, Dick,” said he, “thou wast ashamed of the old horse’s long rough coat--I didn’t think thou hadst been such a dandy.” “Upon my honour it was nothing of the sort,” said I, glad enough that he wasn’t on the right scent. “And how did you get along with one of our young squires?” said he. “Oh, he offered me a lift,” said I; and then I told him my story. “Well, you always seem to fall on your legs,” said he; “who are they with him?” “Oxford scholars, I think,” said I, “from their talk; but I didn’t get on much with them, they’re not so free spoken as he is. But what are you about here, Joe?” “Oh, helping the umpires to measure out the course for the cart-horse race; look, there are the flags right along for half a mile, and the finish is to be up there by the side of the Castle, for all the folk to see. But come along, for I must be after the umpires; I see they want me.” “I think,” said I, “I should like to go and see what’s going on in the Castle.” “Very good,” said he, “then I’ll look after you when we’ve done this job;” and away he went.