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Mattha was told of the visit of the constables to Shoulthwaite, and of Sim's despatch in search of Ralph. "He'll be off for Carlisle," said Robbie, standing square on his legs, and tugging with his cap off at the hair at the back of his head. "Like eneuf," answered Mattha, "and likely that's the safest place for him. It's best to sit near the fire when the chimney smokes, thoo knows."
"You have him there, Mattha Branthet," said the others with a laugh, "a feckless fool." The young dalesman leaned back on the bench, took a draught of his liquor, rested the pot on his knee, and looked into the fire with the steady gaze of one just out of the darkness. After a pause he said quietly, "I'll wager there's never a man among you dare go up to Sim's cave to-night.
In a minute more Robbie's insensible form was wrapped round and round. "Give him room to breathe," said Mattha; "I declare ye're playing at pund-o'-mair-weight with the lad!" he added as Rotha came up with a sheepskin and a shawl. "The night is cold, and he has all but three miles to ride yet!" said the girl.
"He'll none go for safety, father," answered Robbie; and turning to Liza, he added, "But what was it you said about Mother Garth?" "The old witch-wife said that Ralph was wanted for murder," replied the girl. "It's a lie," said Robbie vehemently. "I'll uphod thee there," said Mattha; "but whatever's to be done?" "Why, Robbie must go and fetch Sim back," said Liza eagerly.
"The lass is right," said Robbie; "I'll be off." And the young man swung on his heel as though about to carry out his purpose on the instant. "Stop, stop," said Mattha; "I reckon the laal tailor's got farther ner the next cause'y post. You must come and tak a bite of dinner and set away with summat in yer pocket." "Hang the pocket! I must be off," said Robbie.
Then running to the bank of the stream, he dropt on to his knees, and before his companions could prevent him he had pulled off his cap and plunged his head twice or thrice in the water. "What, man!" said Mattha, "ye'd want mair ner the strength of men and pitchforks to stand again the like of that. Why, the water is as biting as a stepmother welcome on a winter's mornin' same as this."
The sententious graybeard was never quite so happy, never looked quite so wise, never shook his head with such an air of good-humored consequence, never winked with such profundity of facetiousness, as when "the laal limber Frenchman" was giving a "merry touch." Wouldn't Monsey sing summat and fiddle to it too; aye, that he would, Mattha knew reet weel. "Sing!" cried the little man, "sing!
It took the peculiar form of a lime-and-mould heap, and, though in Reuben's case the visitation was not attended by convulsions or idiocy, the effect of it was unmistakable. When Reuben awoke next morning he found himself at the bottom of a ditch. "A wild neet onyways, Mattha," says Reuben, on Robbie Anderson's retirement.
"I've had more than I've eaten at one meal for nigh a month more than I've taken since that thing happened on the fell," answered Robbie, rising from the table, strapping his long coat tightly about him with his belt, and tying cords about the wide flanges of his big boots. "Mattha will sett thee on the road, Robbie," said Mrs. Branthwaite. "Nay, nay; I reckon, I'd be scarce welcome.
When she heard what sick guest they had brought her, she trembled from head to foot, and cried to them not to shorten the life of a poor old soul whose days were numbered. "Nay, nay; take him away, take him away," she said. "Art daft, or what dusta mean?" said Mattha from his seat in the cart. "Nay, but have mercy on me, have mercy on me," cried 'Becca beseechingly.
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