But there was no help for it now. The villager must be trusted. They
sought Mr. Woolfe's house by the rear entrance, the prince receiving a
warm but anxious welcome from the loyal old gentleman.
"I am sorry you are here, for the place is perilous," said the host.
"There are two companies of militia in the village who keep a guard on
the ferry, to stop any one from escaping that way. As for my
hiding-places, they have all been discovered, and it is not safe to put
you in any of them. I can offer you no shelter but in my barn, where you
can lie behind the corn and hay."
The prince was grateful even for this sorry shelter, and spent all that
day hidden in the hay, feasting on some cold meat which his host had
given him. The next night he set out for Richard Penderell's house, Mr.
Woolfe having told him that it was not safe to try the Severn, it being
closely guarded at all its fords and bridges. On their way they came
again near the mill. Not caring to be questioned as before by the
suspicious miller, they diverged towards the river.
"Can you swim?" asked Charles of his guide.
"Not I; and the river is a scurvy one."
"I've a mind to try it," said the prince. "It's a small stream at the
best, and I may help you over.
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