engine and down the lengths of both, till he stood above the other steering board and lazily swung bright menace through the smoke.
“Methinks it would be Christian to oblige me,” he purred. Wrench and shovel clattered to deck. The crewmen stared slack-jawed at his bulk and his weapon. “But since ye are this loth to do a favor, why, I will do it, and give you a ride in one of your own freightcars,safely locked. Climb down to earth, now; do not seek to flee. I’ve longer legs than you, ’tis plain to see.”
Will unbarred and slid back the door of a carrier, secured it after Rupert had prodded the prisoners in. “I reckon here’s where we change trains, my loard,” he said. (Rupert nodded.) “A moment, pray. I’ll further look inboard.” At the next wagon which he examined, he uttered a yip of glee. “Here’s brew indeed, whole casks o’ nut-brown yale! We’ll not go thirsty, though we may go stale.”
“Our prize’s tank and tender are quite full,” Rupert said. “To Stoke or further, ’twere a steady pull, save that for speed, we first must turn around, and send that message.” He stroked scabbard and hilt. “So, we’ll seize the ground.”
In a few minutes the North country locomotive stood deserted, watching its Southland sister progress steadily backward.
x
BUXTON.
As Rupert had guessed, the little town was not frequented for its mineral springs in these unhappy times. It seemed to dream almost empty between its high surrounding hills, beneath a heaven half open and half mountainous snowy clouds: one wide street lined with gracious old buildings, a marketplace with a fine old cross. A few homes stood further out along meandering lanes, dominant among them at the west end a mansion raised in the days of Elizabeth.
The railway station was down by the River Wye, in order that a steam pump might keep the water tank loaded without need to sink a well. Otherwise there were coal bins, switchyard, semaphore, shedlike house, everything gaunt and dust-gray. Chuffing in, Rupert grimaced. “Such ugliness—here—comes nigh blasphemy,” he said. “If naught else, they could plant a garden, as I’ve seen done in other places.”
“’Twar formerly, my loard.” Will pointed to a weedbed. “No doubt tha new warder be a true Puritan, his miand on higher things liake cabbages.” He glanced at the barrel lashed onto the platform bench. “Think you ’a’s got a cup to spaere? After thic sweat that general an’ me lost, hoistin’ this monstrous weight o’ beer to a handy plaece, what shaeme we let tha bigger part splash free whilst standin’ on our heads to drink from tha bung-hoale.”
“We might better seek food,” Rupert reproved him. “Or to carry out our mission.”
His gaze traced the course he must follow to point the train properly south. His experience was not sufficient that the maneuvering would be easy, given six cars for tail. Carefully, he inched toward position.
The stationmaster came forth. He was a big, rawbonedperson in somber garb. A scar seamed his brow, running into close-cropped gray hair. His limp did not make him less fierce-looking. “A Roundhead veteran, pensioned off with this post,” Rupert muttered to Will. “Handle him like a hot petard, if we’re to capture the station.”
“Halt!” the man cried. “What means this?”
Rupert obeyed in a hiss of vented steam, leaned over the rail and answered, “Emergency most dire. Bandits.”
“Aye—you in your Popish mane!”
“No, hold, sir. I own I fought for the King, but being taken prisoner and finding ’twas not truly his cause, I’ve become Sir Malachi Shelgrave’s man—you’ve heard the name? My comrade and I were riding secretly in a van, as guards, lest robbers strike, which they’ve been doing further north. We looked not for them hereabouts, but found our way barricaded only a few miles hence. Ere we could act, driver and fireman were slain. Then did we come forth and chase the rogues,
“Methinks it would be Christian to oblige me,” he purred. Wrench and shovel clattered to deck. The crewmen stared slack-jawed at his bulk and his weapon. “But since ye are this loth to do a favor, why, I will do it, and give you a ride in one of your own freightcars,safely locked. Climb down to earth, now; do not seek to flee. I’ve longer legs than you, ’tis plain to see.”
Will unbarred and slid back the door of a carrier, secured it after Rupert had prodded the prisoners in. “I reckon here’s where we change trains, my loard,” he said. (Rupert nodded.) “A moment, pray. I’ll further look inboard.” At the next wagon which he examined, he uttered a yip of glee. “Here’s brew indeed, whole casks o’ nut-brown yale! We’ll not go thirsty, though we may go stale.”
“Our prize’s tank and tender are quite full,” Rupert said. “To Stoke or further, ’twere a steady pull, save that for speed, we first must turn around, and send that message.” He stroked scabbard and hilt. “So, we’ll seize the ground.”
In a few minutes the North country locomotive stood deserted, watching its Southland sister progress steadily backward.
x
BUXTON.
As Rupert had guessed, the little town was not frequented for its mineral springs in these unhappy times. It seemed to dream almost empty between its high surrounding hills, beneath a heaven half open and half mountainous snowy clouds: one wide street lined with gracious old buildings, a marketplace with a fine old cross. A few homes stood further out along meandering lanes, dominant among them at the west end a mansion raised in the days of Elizabeth.
The railway station was down by the River Wye, in order that a steam pump might keep the water tank loaded without need to sink a well. Otherwise there were coal bins, switchyard, semaphore, shedlike house, everything gaunt and dust-gray. Chuffing in, Rupert grimaced. “Such ugliness—here—comes nigh blasphemy,” he said. “If naught else, they could plant a garden, as I’ve seen done in other places.”
“’Twar formerly, my loard.” Will pointed to a weedbed. “No doubt tha new warder be a true Puritan, his miand on higher things liake cabbages.” He glanced at the barrel lashed onto the platform bench. “Think you ’a’s got a cup to spaere? After thic sweat that general an’ me lost, hoistin’ this monstrous weight o’ beer to a handy plaece, what shaeme we let tha bigger part splash free whilst standin’ on our heads to drink from tha bung-hoale.”
“We might better seek food,” Rupert reproved him. “Or to carry out our mission.”
His gaze traced the course he must follow to point the train properly south. His experience was not sufficient that the maneuvering would be easy, given six cars for tail. Carefully, he inched toward position.
The stationmaster came forth. He was a big, rawbonedperson in somber garb. A scar seamed his brow, running into close-cropped gray hair. His limp did not make him less fierce-looking. “A Roundhead veteran, pensioned off with this post,” Rupert muttered to Will. “Handle him like a hot petard, if we’re to capture the station.”
“Halt!” the man cried. “What means this?”
Rupert obeyed in a hiss of vented steam, leaned over the rail and answered, “Emergency most dire. Bandits.”
“Aye—you in your Popish mane!”
“No, hold, sir. I own I fought for the King, but being taken prisoner and finding ’twas not truly his cause, I’ve become Sir Malachi Shelgrave’s man—you’ve heard the name? My comrade and I were riding secretly in a van, as guards, lest robbers strike, which they’ve been doing further north. We looked not for them hereabouts, but found our way barricaded only a few miles hence. Ere we could act, driver and fireman were slain. Then did we come forth and chase the rogues,
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