I rested after my dinner, then pushed on again, till I had won to
a little spinney only four miles from Taunton, where my legs
began to fail under me.
I crept into the spinney, wondering if it contained some good
shelter in which I could sleep for the night. I found a sort of
dry, high pitched bank, with the grass all worn off it, which I
thought would serve my turn, if the rain held off. As for supper,
I determined to shoot a rabbit with my pistol. For drink, there
was a plenty of small brooks within half a mile of the little
enclosure. After I had chosen my camp, I was not very satisfied
with it. The cover near by was none too thick. So I moved off to
another part where the bushes grew more closely together. As I
was walking leisurely along, I smelt a smell of something
cooking, I heard voices, I heard something clink, as though two
tin cups were being jangled. Before I could draw back, a man
thrust through the undergrowth, challenging me with a pistol. Two
other men followed him, talking in low, angry tones. They came
all round me with very murderous looks. They were the filthiest
looking scarecrows ever seen out of a wheat-field.
"Why," said one of them, lowering his pistol, "it be the Duke's
young man, as we seed at Lyme." They became more friendly at
that; but still they seemed uneasy, not very sure of my
intentions.
"Where is the Duke?" I asked after a long awkward pause. "Is he
at Taunton?" They looked from one to the other with strange looks
which I did not understand.
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