That beds were found for all of them-or even half-we do not pretend to say; but in some way or other they were accommodated.
Later on in the day a substantial dinner was served in the old banqueting-hall.
A great deal of wine was drunk that night, as was generally the case at Otterburn, and it would have been strange indeed if a quarrel had not occurred between the choleric laird and some of his guests.
For a time, Squire Hall appeared in remarkably good humour. He proposed a great number of Jacobite toasts, all of which were drunk with enthusiasm, but at length he propounded a plan for taking Newcastle by surprise, and its absurdity being pointed out to him by Colonel Oxburgh he flew into a violent rage, and told the colonel he was not fit to command a regiment.
The colonel immediately arose to leave the table, and Lord Derwentwater insisted that the squire should at once withdraw the offensive observation. Instead of doing so, the squire sprang from his chair, drew his sword, and dared Colonel Oxburgh to meet him; but while gesticulating fiercely he fell to the ground, and could not get up again. In this state he was carried off to bed, and next morning he had forgotten all about the occurrence.
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The Race on Simonside
AFTER a capital breakfast, the whole party-now increased by Squire Hall and half a dozen men-rode from Otterburn to Simonside, one of the loftiest and most striking hills in Northumberland. The summit of this remarkable eminence is a complete plateau, and the views commanded from it on all sides are extraordinarily fine, the whole range of the Cheviots being visible on the west, and the German Ocean on the east.
As the party were riding across this wide plain, with the intention of descending the north side, and proceeding to Rothbury, Squire Hall, who had been tolerably quiet during the morning, proposed to ride a race with Charles Radclyffe for twenty guineas.
“We will ride from here to Rothbury,” he said; “and whoever gets there first, shall be deemed the winner.”
Charles Radclyffe instantly accepted the challenge; but the Earl of Derwentwater very reluctantly allowed the match to take place, and only consented from the fear of causing a fresh quarrel with the squire.
Without loss of time, the two gentlemen were placed together, and started at once by the earl. Both were well mounted-both excellent horsemen-but Charles Radclyffe was much the lighter weight, though undoubtedly the squire had the stronger horse.
It was a very pretty sight, to see them as they scoured over the plain, accompanied by the whole troop. The earl’s dapple-grey being fleeter than either of the contending steeds, he could have easily led them, had he thought proper, but he did not make the attempt. Nor did he go beyond the edge of the hill.
On looking down the steep slopes, he called to the others to stop, but neither of them heeded him. Both dashed headlong down the hill, and all the lookers-on thought they would come rolling to the bottom.
If ever Squire Hall merited the epithet applied to his name, it was on that day, and Charles Radclyffe appeared little less crazy-the general impression being that both would break their necks. But somehow, the horses kept their feet. The squire shouted lustily, as he continued his mad descent, and Charles was equally excited.
To the astonishment of all the beholders they got down in safety, and were soon afterwards seen crossing the bridge; being then so close together, that it was impossible to say who had won the race.
The Earl of Derwentwater and his companions took an easier and more secure route down. As they approached the old bridge over the Coquet leading to the charming little town, they met the two crazy riders coming to meet them, and inquired who had won.
“We can’t settle the point, my lord,” replied the squire; “it seems to have been a dead-heat. We shall have to ride the race over again.”
“Not on Simonside Hill,” replied Lord Derwentwater, laughing. “Have you heard where Mr. Forster has fixed his head-quarters? I see nothing of him or his troop.”