The lie of the land was as follows: To get to the "Ring of Bells," Master Freake would have to ride over the hill to the main road at Weston, thence some six miles north-west to Stone, thence another six or seven miles south-west to the inn. Mistress Waynflete and I had a stiff walk of about nine miles in front of us. For the first three miles our way ran east by north, and then bent almost due east to the ale-house. Our difficulty would come at the bending point, for there we should have to cross the main road from Stafford along which the troops would be filtering north to get into touch with the Prince and his Highlanders. If the Duke had heard of the supposed intention of the Jacobites to turn off for Wales, he would, I imagined, send a scouting party through Eccleshall to look out for them, and we should, for the second time in our journey, be on dangerous ground in the neighbourhood of that village. The "Ring of Bells," however, lay north of that village, off his obvious line of march in that direction, so that we stood a good chance of passing unchecked to our goal, provided that we got across the main road north in safety. Fortunately, at the place where I intended to cross, it climbed over a fairly steep hill, and we could, if need were, lie and watch the road till it was safe to venture out. It was ticklish work at the best and any break in our run of luck might ruin us. How ticklish was vividly brought home to me within a few minutes of our getting safe under cover in the cottage. I had, of course, brought back the birding-piece and, after once more helping in the blissful task of getting Mistress Waynflete into the domino, bungling as usual over arranging the hood because my fingers lost control of themselves at the touch of her hair, I sat down to reload it, intending to carry it with me. I had settled matters with the absent gaffer, Doley, by putting one of my guineas conspicuously on the table, and was just finishing my task when Mistress Waynflete, who had stepped to the rear window and was looking back on the scene of my recent exploit, suddenly called out, "Oliver! Come here!" My heart leaped within me at that 'Oliver.' True, it was the familiarity of one born to command, one who had last night icily desired my services in the morning, and, womanlike, knew that she could queen it over me as she listed, but still, and this was the main thing, it was familiar and friendly, and seemed to lift me a shade nearer to her. "What is it, madam?" I asked respectfully, and ran toward her, but not so swiftly that I had not time to see the blue eyes fixed hard on mine. For answer, she turned and pointed down the hill, and there I saw the patch of brown road covered with wagons and soldiers. In five minutes they would come across the dead body of the Major. "Good," said I indifferently, "they save me a guinea," and I put the coin back in my pocket. The soldiers didn't matter, but that look in her eyes did.