Roscorla. "They've both run away--both of
them--this minute--with Trelyon! You'll have to ride after them.
They're straight away along the high-road."
"Both of them? The infernal young fools!" said Rosewarne. "Why the
devil didn't you stop them yourself?"
"How could I?" Roscorla said, amazed that the father took the flight
of his daughters with apparent equanimity. "You must make haste, Mr.
Rosewarne, or you'll never catch them."
"I've a good mind to let 'em go," said he sulkily as he walked over to
the stables of the inn. "The notion of a man having to set out on this
wild-goose chase at this time o' night! Run away, have they? and what
in all the world have they run away for?"
It occurred to him, however, that the sooner he got a horse saddled
and set out, the less distance he would have to go in pursuit; and
that consideration quickened his movements.
"What's it all about?" said he to Roscorla, who had followed him into
the stable.
"I suppose they mean a runaway match," said Mr. Roscorla, helping to
saddle George Rosewarne's cob, a famous trotter.
"It's that young devil's limb, Mabyn, I'll be bound," said the father.
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