“Hold—or ye are dead men!”
How good it sounded! The owner of the voice bore all the marks of a gentleman: picturesque and costly raiment, the aspect of command, a hard countenance, with complexion and features marred by dissipation. The mob fell humbly back, like so many spaniels. The gentleman inspected us critically, then said sharply to the peasants:
“What are ye doing to these people?”
“They be madmen, worshipful sir, that have come wandering we know not whence, and—”
“Ye know not whence? Do ye pretend ye know them not?”
“Most honored sir, we speak but the truth. They are strangers and unknown to any in this region; and they be the most violent and bloodthirsty madmen that ever—”
“Peace! Ye know not what ye say. They are not mad. Who are ye? And whence are ye? Explain.”
“We are but peaceful strangers, sir,” I said, “and traveling upon our own concerns. We are from a far country, and unacquainted here. We have purposed no harm; and yet but for your brave interference and protection these people would have killed us. As you have divined, sir, we are not mad; neither are we violent or bloodthirsty.”
The gentleman turned to his retinue and said calmly: “Lash me these animals to their kennels!”
The mob vanished in an instant; and after them plunged the horsemen, laying about them with their whips and pitilessly riding down such as were witless enough to keep the road instead of taking to the bush. The shrieks and supplications presently died away in the distance,