The White Gauntlet Part 9

"What! yield to a pack of cowardly footpads?" continued the cavalier, c.o.c.king his pistol, as he spoke. "No--sooner--"

"Your blood on your own head then!" shouted the robber, at the same time rus.h.i.+ng forward, and extending his pike so that its steel point was almost in contact with the counter of the cavalier's horse.

The moonlight shone full upon the footpad, showing a face of fierce aspect--features of wild expression--black beard and whiskers--a thick shock of dark hair matted and tangled--eyes bloodshot, and gleaming with a lurid light!

It was fortunate for their owner, that the moonlight favoured the identification of those fear-inspiring features--else that moment might have been his last.

The cavalier had levelled his c.o.c.ked pistol. His finger was upon the trigger. In another second the shot would have been discharged; and in all likelihood his a.s.sailant would have been lying lifeless at the feet of his horse.

All at once, the outstretched arm was seen to drop; while at the same instant from the horseman's lips issued an exclamation of singular import.

"Gregory Garth!" cried he, "you a highwayman--a robber? About to rob-- to murder--"

"My old master!" gasped out the man, suddenly lowering the point of his pike. "Be it you? Pardon! O pardon, Sir Henry! I didn't know 'twas you."

And as the speaker gave utterance to the last words, he dashed his weapon to the ground, and stood over it in a cowering and contrite att.i.tude--not daring to raise his eyes to the face of him who had brought the affair to such an unexpected ending.

"O Master Henry!" he again cried, "will you forgive me! Brute as I am, 'twould ha' broke my heart to a hurted a hair o' your head. Curse the crooked luck that's brought me to this!"

For some moments there was a profound silence--unbroken by any voice.

Even the companions of the robber appeared to respect the _situation_: since not one of them moved or made remark of any kind!

Their humiliated chief was himself the first to put a period to this interval of embarra.s.sment.

"O Master Henry!" he exclaimed, apparently in a paroxysm of chagrin.

"Shoot me! Kill me if ye like! After what's pa.s.sed, I doan't desarve no better than to die. There's my breast! Send yer bullet through it; an' put an end to the miserable life o' Greg'ry Garth!"

While speaking, the footpad pulled open the flap of his doublet--laying bare before the moonlight a broad sinewy breast, thickly covered with coa.r.s.e black hair.

Advancing close to the cavalier's horse he presented his bosom, thus exposed--as if to tempt the death he had so strangely solicited. His words, his looks, his whole att.i.tude, proclaimed him to be in earnest.

"Come, come, Garth!" said the cavalier in a soothing tone--at the same time returning the pistol to its holster. "You're too good a man--at least you _were once_--to be shot down in that off-hand fas.h.i.+on."

"Ah! _once_ Master Henry. May be that's true enough. But now I desarve it."

"Spare your self-recrimination, Gregory. Your life, like my own, has been a hard one. I know it; and can therefore look more leniently on what has happened now. Let us be thankful it's no worse; and hope it will be the means of bringing about a change for the better."

"It will, Master Henry; it will! I promise that."

"I'm glad to hear you say so; and doubt not but that you'll keep your word. Meanwhile give orders to your trusty followers--by the way a well-behaved band--not to molest us. To-morrow morning there will be travellers along this way, upon whom I have not the slightest objection that both you and yours should practise your peculiar avocation; and to your heart's content. Please desire those gentlemen to keep their distance. I don't wish them to make any nearer approach--lest I might have the misfortune to find in their ranks some other old acquaintance, who like yourself has fallen from the paths of virtue."

As the footpad stood listening to the request, a singular expression was observed to steal over his fierce features--which gradually gathered into a broad comical grin.

"Ah! Master Henry," he rejoined, "I may order 'em, to obleege ye, but they woant obey. Yer needn't be afeerd o' 'em for all that. You may go as near 'em as you like--_they_ an't a-goin' to molest you. You may run your sword through and through 'em, and never a one o' 'em's goin' to cry out he be hurt."

"Well, they seem patient fellows in all sincerity. But enough--what do you mean, Gregory?"

"That they be n.o.bodies, Master Henry--reg'lar n.o.bodies. They be only dummies--a lot o' old coats and hats, that's no doubt done good sarvice to their wearers 'fore they fell into the hands o' Gregory Garth--ay, and they ha' done some good sarvice since--o' a different kind, as ye see."

"So these fellows are only scarecrows? I had my suspicions."

"Nothing more nor less, master. Harmless as I once was myself, but since that time--you know--when the old hall was taken from you, and you went abroad--since then I've been--"

"I don't want to hear your history, Garth," said his former Master, interrupting him, "at least not _since then_. Let the past be of the past, if you will only promise me to forsake your present profession for the future. Sooner or later it will bring you to the block."

"But what am I to do?" inquired the footpad, in a tone of humble expostulation.

"Do? Anything but what you have been doing. Get work--honest work."

"As I live, I've tried wi' all my might. Ah! Sir Henry, you've been away from the country a tidyish time. You don't know how things be now.

To be honest be to starve. Honesty an't no longer o' any account in England."

"Some day," said the cavalier, as he sate reflecting in his saddle.

"Some day it may be more valued--and that day not distant Gregory Garth!" he continued, making appeal to the footpad in a more serious and earnest tone of voice, "You have a bold heart, and a strong arm. I know it. I have no doubt too, that despite the outlawed life you've been leading, _your sympathies are still on the right side_. They have reason: for you too have suffered in your way. You know what I mean?"

"I do, Sir Henry, I do," eagerly answered the man. "Ye're right. Brute as I may be, and robber as I ha' been, I ha' my inclining in that ere.

Ah! it's it that's made me what I be!"

"Hear me then," said the cavalier bending down in his saddle, and speaking still more confidentially. "The time is not distant--perhaps nearer than most people think--when a stout heart and a strong arm--such as yours, Garth,--may be usefully employed in a better occupation, than that you've been following."

"Dy'e say so, Sir Henry?"

"I do. So take my advice. Disband these trusty followers of yours-- whose _staunchness_ ought to recommend them for better service. Make the best market you can of their cast-off wardrobes. Retire for a time into private life; and wait till you hear shouted those sacred words--

"G.o.d and the People!"

"Bless ye, Sir Henry!" cried the robber, rus.h.i.+ng up, and, with a show of rude affection, clutching the hand of his former master. "I had heard o' your comin' to live at the old house in the forest up thear; but I didn't expect to meet you in this way. You'll let me come an' see ye.

I promise ye that ye'll never meet me as a robber again. _This night Gregory Garth takes his leave o' the road_."

"A good resolve!" rejoined the cavalier, warmly returning the pressure of the outlaw's hand. "I'm glad you have made it. Good-night, Gregory!" he continued, moving onward along the road; "Come and see me, whenever you please. Good-night, gentlemen!" and at the words he lifted the plumed beaver from his head, and, in a style of mock courtesy, waved the dummies an adieu. "Good-night, worthy friends!" he laughingly repeated, as he rode through their midst. "Don't trouble yourselves to return my salutation. Ha! ha! ha!"

The young courtier, moving after, joined in the jocular leave-taking; and both merrily rode away--leaving the footpad to the companions.h.i.+p of his speechless "pals."

Volume One, Chapter X.

An incident so ludicrous could not fail to tickle the fancy of the young courtier; and bring his risible faculties into full play. It produced this effect; and to such a degree that for some minutes he could do nothing but laugh--loud enough to have been heard to the remotest confines of the Heath.

"I shouldn't wonder,"--said he, recalling to mind the contents of his sister's letter; "not a bit should I wonder, if this fellow be the same who stopped the lady's coach. You've heard of it?"

"I have," laughingly replied the cavalier. "No doubt, Gregory Garth and the coach-robber you speak of are one and the same individual."

"Ha! ha! ha! to think of the six attendants!--there was that number, I believe, escorting the coach--to think of all six running away, and from one man!"

"You forget the band? Ha! ha! ha! It is to be presumed, that Gregory had six scarecrows rigged up for that occasion also. Truer men, by my troth, than the cavaliers who accompanied the lady. Ha! ha! But for the immorality of the act it's an artifice worthy of my old instructor in the art of _venerie_. After all, I should have expected better of the ex-forester than finding him thus transformed into a footpad. Poor devil! who knows what may have been his trials and temptations? There are wrongs daily done upon England's people, in the name--ay, and with the knowledge--of England's king, that would make a criminal of the meekest Christian; and Gregory Garth was never particularly distinguished for the virtue of meekness. Something may have been done to madden, and drive him to this desperate life. I shall know anon."

"One thing in his favour," suggested the young courtier, who notwithstanding the rude introduction, appeared to be favourably inclined towards the footpad. "He did not ill-treat the lady, though left all alone with her. True, he stripped her of her jewellery; but beyond that he behaved gently enough. I have just heard the sequel of the story, as I came through Uxbridge. Ha! ha! odd as the rest of the affair. It appears that before leaving her, he caught one of her runaway attendants; forced him back upon the box; and, putting the whip and reins into the varlet's hands, compelled him to continue the journey!"

"All as you say, Master Wade. I heard the same story myself; though little suspecting that the facetious footpad was my old henchman Gregory Garth. That part of his performance was natural enough. The rogue had always a dash of gallantry in his composition. I'm pleased to think it's not all gone out of him."