Far from the Madding Crowd

"What does this mean? -- though I guess." said Gabriel, looking up at Coggan as he moved the match over the ground about the turning. Coggan, who, no less than the panting horses, had latterly shown signs of weariness, again scrutinized the mystic characters.

This time only three were of the regular horseshoe shape. Every fourth was a dot.

He screwed up his face and emitted a long "Whew-w-w!"

"Lame." said Oak.

"Yes Dainty is lamed; the near-foot-afore." said Coggan slowly staring still at the footprints.

"We'll push on." said Gabriel, remounting his humid steed.

Although the road along its greater part had been as good as any turnpike-road in the country, it was nominally only a byway. The last turning had brought them into the high road leading to Bath. Coggan recollected himself.

"We shall have him now!" he exclaimed.

"Where?"

"Sherton Turnpike. The keeper of that gate is the sleepiest man between here and London -- Dan Randall.

that's his name -- knowed en for years, when he was at Casterbridge gate. Between the lameness and the gate 'tis a done job."

'Twas said until, against a shady background of foliage, five white bars were visible, crossing their route a little way ahead.

"Hush -- we are almost close!" said Gabriel.

"Amble on upon the grass." said Coggan.

The white bars were blotted out in the midst by a dark shape in front of them. The silence of this lonely time was pierced by an exclamation from that quarter.

"Hoy-a-hoy! Gate!"

It appeared that there had been a previous call which they had not noticed, for on their close approach the door of the turnpike-house opened, and the keeper came out half-dressed, with a candle in his hand. The rays illumined the whole group.

"Keep the gate close!" shouted Gabriel. "He has stolen the horse!"

Who?" said the turnpike-man.

Gabriel looked at the driver of the gig, and saw a woman -- Bathsheba, his mistress.

On hearing his voice she had turned her face away from the light. Coggan had, however, caught sight of her in the meanwhile.

"Why, 'tis mistress-i'll take my oath!" he said, amazed.

Bathsheba it certainly was, and she had by this time done the trick she could do so well in crises not of love, namely, mask a surprise by coolness of manner.

"Well, Gabriel." she inquired quietly," where are you going?"

"We thought -- --" began Gabriel.