A STRANGE RIDE 75

road thou art to ride this day better than thou dost thy-
self; and Ill see to it that thou dost come without fail to
the very place that thou art going. I will, upon my word,
and on the remnant of mine honour!”

But in spite of this assurance, and in spite of the mas-
ter-player’s ceaseless stream of gaiety and marvels, Nick
became more and more uneasy. The road was certainly
growing stranger and stranger as they passed. The com-
pany, too, instead of ambling leisurely along, as they had
done at first, were now spurring ahead at a good round
gallop, in answer to a shrill whistle from the master-
player; and the horses were wet with sweat.

They passed a country village, too, that was quite un-
known to Nick, and a great highway running to the north
that he had never seen before; and when they had ridden
for about two hours, the road swerved southward to a
shining ford, and on a little tableland beyond he saw the
gables of a town he did not know.

“Why, Master Carew!” he cried out, half indignant,
half perplexed, and thoroughly frightened, “this is na the
Stratford road at all. I’m going back. I will na ride
another mile!”

As he spoke he wheeled the roan sharply out of the
clattering file with a slash of the rein across the withers,
and started back along the hill past the rest of the com-
pany, who came thumping down behind.

“Stop him! Stop him there!” he heard the master-
player shout, and there was something in the fierce, high
voice that turned his whole heart sick. What right had