“Perhaps the story told us by the Lascar is not true,” suggested Ethan, who still felt most doubtful upon this point.
“Maybe not. But it won’t be long before we satisfy ourselves upon that point. We’ll not ride many miles before we know who is ahead of us; innkeepers have good memories if they are paid for it.”
In this Longsword was right. They paused for food at a small hostelry about noon, and Ethan questioned the landlord.
“A traveler? Oh, yes, monsieur, there have been many pass by to-day and yesterday. You are trying to overtake a friend, I suppose? It will be difficult, because all who went by seemed in a very great hurry, and scarce had time to spend a sou even. But what sort of a man is he whom you ride after? Stout? Ah! And with a great white frill and many seals? I have him. He passed early this morning in a carriage with postilions; and he drove very fast after he had had his breakfast.”
This news made them increase the pace of their nags along the road.
“He will probably get fresh horses at given points along the road,” said Ethan, “so he will have that advantage of us.”
Their mounts were big-boned, lean beasts with plenty of bottom and great willingness; the miles flowed by under their hoofs; but still no indication of their overtaking the carriage of the secret agent. It was late in the afternoon when they entered a long stretch of road bordered by thick woods upon each side; the trees were tall and bare of leaves; their frost-dry branches swung and rattled in the wind. They had met no person or come upon no human habitation for a long time; and now were astonished to hear a hearty, rollicking sort of a voice roaring out:
“‘Oh, the French are on the sea,’ says the Shan Van Vogh; ‘The French are on the sea,’ says the Shan Van Vogh; ‘Oh, the French are in the bay, they’ll be here without delay, And the Orange will decay,’ says the Shan Van Vogh.”
“Hurro,” cried Longsword in delight. “Faith, that’s a countryman of my own, I’ll go bail.”
“There can be little doubt of that,” said Ethan smiling. “And a hearty, joyful blade he must be, judging from his voice.”
Rounding a bend in the road they overtook a strongly built young man with a great shock of yellow hair and the bluest of blue eyes; he bestrode a tall gray horse; and with his head thrown back he trolled forth his song.
