"That is precisely what I was thinking," said I, and I knelt down on the hearth-rug and poked amongst the ashes with the shovel. Suddenly, the landlord uttered an exclamation and threw up the window. I heard the clatter of a horse's hoofs upon the road. I got up from my knees and rushed to the window. As I leaned out Mr. Featherstone rode underneath and he rode my horse. "Stop!" I shouted out. "Mr. Berkeley," he cried, airily waving his hand as he rode by, "you may hold very good putt cards, but you haven't kept your horse." "You damned thief!" I yelled, and he turned in his saddle and put out his tongue. It is, if you think of it, a form of repartee to which there is no reply. In any case I doubt if I could have made any reply which would have reached his ears. For he had set the horse to a gallop and was far down the road. I went back to the hearth where the landlord joined me. We both knelt down and raked away the ashes. "What's that?" said I, pointing to something blackened and scorched. The landlord picked it up. "It is a piece of corduroy." "And here's a bone button," said I. "The ague was a sham, the fire a device to rob you. He came here without a penny piece and burnt his breeches last night. He has robbed you, he has robbed me, and he will reach the Scilly Islands first. How far is it to Rockbere?" "Twelve miles." "I must walk those twelve miles?" "Yes." "Will I get a horse there?" "It is doubtful." "He has a day's start then at the least." So after all, though the horse did not stumble, nor the rider lie quiet by the roadside, he did not ride out of the forest at a gallop, and down the green bank into the open space beyond. CHAPTER VI MY FIRST NIGHT UPON TRESCO