For some time now Tom had been wearing the garb of a serving man.
His peruke had disappeared, and he wore a little dark wig that
looked like his natural hair. It excited less comment for master
and servant to travel from town to town together than for two
English gentlemen to be riding unattended through such a disturbed
country; and as they pursued their way, Lord Claud would give
minute and precise directions to Tom how to act in the event of
their falling in with one of these scouting or marauding parties,
showing such a wonderful knowledge of the tactics of forest warfare
that Tom was often astonished at him, and would have liked to ask
where he had obtained his experience.
And now, for the first time, Tom was face to face with a real
foe--no mere antagonist of the hour, with whom he had exchanged
some angry word, and was ready to follow it up with blows, but with
armed foes of a hostile race, whose blood was stirred by the hatred
bred of long-continued warfare, and who would think as little of
taking the lives of two Englishmen as Tom would of shooting a fat
buck in his native woodlands.
Again came the word of command in the hoarse voice.
"Halt! and declare yourselves, or--"
But the threat remained unspoken, for Lord Claud had drawn rein,
and was looking at the speaker with eyes of mild inquiry.
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