"Yes," he said, "I shall require the crop." Then he leaped into the saddle and spurred the horse down into the water.
Urith tripped along the stones till she reached a broad block in the midst of the river. She found no difficulty in crossing, as the light overhead mirrored itself in the water, making of the Walla a very Phlegethon. But for the same reason Anthony's cob objected to enter. He reared and plunged, and when whipped and spurred, wheeled about.
Urith watched the futile efforts of her companion.
Presently she called to Anthony, "The cob will go into the water if you pat him. You further frighten him by your violence when he is already frightened. The river seems to roll down fire and blood."
"What!" laughed Anthony; "will you teach me how to manage a horse?"
"I have had to do with horses every whit as much as yourself," she replied. "Remember, I am the Wild Maid of the Moors."
He made no reply, but again essayed to force the cob to enter the water. Suddenly Urith, still stationed in midstream, uttered an exclamation of surprise, not unmingled with alarm.
She saw black figures emerge on the hill shoulder, visible against the lurid sky, and then descend along the Lyke-Way, coming along the same track, in the same direction.
At once there rushed upon her the stories she had heard of ghostly trains of mourners, sweeping at night along this road, and of the ill-luck that attended such as cast eyes on them.
"Look!--look!" she exclaimed, now in real terror. "Who are they?--what are they? They are following us, Anthony Cleverdon! Do not let us see them more. Do not let them overtake us."
Anthony looked back. Strange was the appearance of the moor side, half-lighted by the skies reddened with the reflection of fires beyond the hills, but with its surface travelled ever by sparks. An imaginative mind might have thought that mountain gnomes were alert, and were rambling torch in hand over the moor. Now one red spark wandered along in solitude, then out flashed a second, and ran to meet it; as if they were the lights of comrades hailing each other. Suddenly a score sparkled and danced in a ring, and were as suddenly extinguished. Or it might be supposed that the spirits of the primeval tin-workers had returned to earth once more, and were revisiting their ancient circles and avenues of stone, to perform in them the rites of a forgotten religion.