Here Stephen turned off the weathered track, moving up into the
lateral plain. Michael plodded on behind him, still bound, his wrists
raw and aching. So convincing had Purceville's performance been before
the garrison---so rough and disdainful his treatment of the
prisoner---that Michael himself was not certain how things now stood
between them. But a short distance from the precipice the Englishman
checked his horse and dismounted, approaching him.
"I underestimated you," said the Highlander. To this the other did not
reply, but sternly set to work loosing the bonds.
"This much I did for you," said Stephen, as the last knot fell away.
"What I do from here on is for myself, and for the girl."
"I ask no more." Nothing was said about the pistol, which the
Englishman did not return. For Michael knew that the time for weapons
and fighting was passed. Now there was only the Tower, and the sea.
The two mounted, and rode the remaining distance carefully, the horse
weary and unsure beneath them. And soon the hard dark walls of the
fortress were sharply outlined against the tattered sky beyond.
Pages:
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297