There was a very tall man standing by the
prisoner on the horse near the outskirts of the crowd, and holding his
bridle. This man, who was well-armed, I saw look up and say something
to the prisoner, who stooped down and seemed to whisper him in turn.
The tall man nodded his head and the prisoner got off his horse, which
was a cleaner-limbed, better-built beast than the others belonging to
the band, and the tall man quietly led him a little way from the
crowd, mounted him, and rode off northward at a smart pace.
Will Green looked on sharply at all this, and when the man rode off,
smiled as one who is content, and deems that all is going well, and
settled himself down again to listen to the priest.
But now when John Ball had ceased speaking, and after another shout,
and a hum of excited pleasure and hope that followed it, there was
silence again, and as the priest addressed himself to speaking once
more, he paused and turned his head towards the wind, as if he heard
something, which certainly I heard, and belike every one in the
throng, though it was not over-loud, far as sounds carry in clear
quiet evenings.
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