In vain the little
spy tried to head him toward Doncaster. The stranger had removed the
bit, putting in its place a wisp of straw, which the horse quickly
chewed to pieces, and then, with a shake of the head, he galloped off
to the south.
[Illustration: Walter Skinner's horse refused to be controlled]
"Thou beast!" cried the spy. "What meanest thou? Thou art held in by
bit and bridle. Dost not know it?"
It seemed that the horse did not, for he went on at a faster pace.
"Thou art worse than the prior's horse!" cried Walter Skinner, dropping
the reins and clinging round the animal's neck. "I would I had the
stranger that did sell thee to me! I would crack his pate also, even as
I will the pate of the groom at the Green Dragon."
Giving no heed to the remonstrances of his rider or the unevenness of
the road, the horse kept on until he entered the gates of Lincoln, and
stopped before the Swan with a loud and joyous neigh.
At the sound two grooms ran out. "Here he be!" cried one. "Here be
Black Tom that was stole but two nights agone," cried the other; while
in great amazement Walter Skinner sat up and gazed from one to the
other.
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