Whilst he pulled on his boots, he gave Mrs.Barlow instructions for the day, which included the matter of a dinner he was not destined to eat.
When at last he went forth again, Mrs.Barlow clucking after him like a disgruntled fowl, he found young Pitt smothered in a crowd of scared, half-dressed townsfolk--mostly women--who had come hastening for news of how the battle had sped.

The news he gave them was to be read in the lamentations with which they disturbed the morning air.
At sight of the doctor, dressed and booted, the case of instruments tucked under his arm, the messenger disengaged himself from those who pressed about, shook off his weariness and the two tearful aunts that clung most closely, and seizing the bridle of his horse, he climbed to the saddle.
"Come along, sir," he cried.

"Mount behind me." Mr.Blood, without wasting words, did as he was bidden.

Pitt touched the horse with his spur.

The little crowd gave way, and thus, upon the crupper of that doubly-laden horse, clinging to the belt of his companion, Peter Blood set out upon his Odyssey.