human
Has the rider gone to Banbury?
gpt
Yes, two hours since, by a messenger I trust, He is from Yorkshire, too—one Nicholas Blake, who never seems to tire.
human
Blake? he asked.
gpt
Is he a little man, made up of nerves and whipcord?
human
That, and a pluck that would serve three usual men.
gpt
I’m glad he has the ride to Banbury. It was he who first brought us out of Yoredale into this big fight for the King. When last I saw him, he was limping in the middle of Skipton High Street, with blood running down his coat—I thought he had done his last errand.
human
Blake does not die, somehow. Sometimes, looking at him, I think he longs to die and cannot. At any rate, he rode south last autumn with a letter for me, and I kept him for my own private errands. One does not let rare birds escape.