"
The carter was slow of wit, and, as most men did, he trembled at the
mention of the king. He therefore did as he was requested, and Walter
Skinner was soon bumping along the road, oblivious to all his
surroundings. In the cart he might have remained until he reached St.
Albans, but that, just at dawn, he had a frightful dream. He was again
at Dunstable, and the landlord of the Shorn Lamb was about to deliver
him to the king who stood, in his dream, a hideous monster with horns
upon his head. In a shiver of dread he awoke. The cart was standing
still, and, at the side of the road, reposed the carter overcome by
sleep. By his side lay his drinking-horn. With trembling limbs Walter
Skinner climbed down from the cart. Then, seizing the carter's horn, he
untied his horse, which was fastened to the tail of the cart, and
mounted; took from the horn a long drink, and once more set out at a
furious pace which shortly became once more a slow one. Pausing only
long enough at St. Albans to procure breakfast for himself and a feed
for his horse, he continued on to London which he reached late in the
afternoon.
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