scaring them a second time. They were taken by surprise. You heard that horn-blowing? Evidently there are other ruffians near at hand. They’ll be much bolder when there’s more of them together. We ought to think of taking cover somewhere for the night. After all we’re only four, even if we are armed.’
‘I’ve an idea,’ said Sam. ‘Let’s go to old Tom Cotton’s down South Lane! He always was a stout fellow. And he has a lot of lads that were all friends of mine.’
‘No!’ said Merry. ‘It’s no good “getting under cover”. That is just what people have been doing, and just what these ruffians like. They will simply come down on us in force, corner us, and then drive us out, or burn us in. No, we have got to do something at once.’
‘Do what?’ said Pippin.
‘Raise the Shire!’ said Merry. ‘Now! Wake all our people! They hate all this, you can see: all of them except perhaps one or two rascals, and a few fools that want to be important, but don’t at all understand what is really going on. But Shire-folk have been so comfortable so long they don’t know what to do. They just want a match, though, and they’ll go up in fire. The Chief’s Men must know that. They’ll try to stamp on us and put us out quick. We’ve only got a very short time.
‘Sam, you can make a dash for Cotton’s farm, if you like. He’s the chief person round here, and the sturdiest. Come on! I am going to blow the horn of Rohan, and give them all some music they have never heard before.’
They rode back to the middle of the village. There Sam turned aside and galloped off down the lane that led south to Cotton’s. He had not gone far when he heard a sudden clear horn-call go up ringing into the sky. Far over hill and field it echoed; and so compelling was that call that Sam himself almost turned and dashed back. His pony reared and neighed.
‘On, lad! On!’ he cried. ‘We’ll be going back soon.’
Then he heard Merry change the note, and up went the Horn-cry of Buckland, shaking the air.
Awake! Awake! Fear, Fire, Foes! Awake!
Fire, Foes! Awake!
Behind him Sam heard a hubbub of voices and a great din and slamming of doors. In front of him lights sprang out in the gloaming; dogs barked; feet came running. Before he got to the lane’s end there was Farmer Cotton with three of his lads, Young Tom, Jolly, and Nick, hurrying towards him. They had axes in their hands, and barred the way.
‘Nay! It’s not one of them ruffians,’ Sam heard the farmer say. ‘It’s a hobbit by the size of it, but all dressed up queer. Hey!’ he cried. ‘Who are you, and what’s all this to-do?’
‘It’s Sam, Sam Gamgee. I’ve come back.’
Farmer Cotton came up close and stared at him in the twilight. ‘Well!’ he exclaimed. ‘The voice is right, and your face is no worse than it was, Sam. But I should a’ passed you in the street in that gear. You’ve been in foreign parts, seemingly. We feared you were dead.’
‘That I ain’t!’ said Sam. ‘Nor Mr. Frodo. He’s here and his friends. And that’s the to-do. They’re raising the Shire.
We’re going to clear out these ruffians, and their Chief too. We’re starting now.’
‘Good, good!’ cried Farmer Cotton. ‘So it’s begun at last! I’ve been itching for trouble all this year, but folks wouldn’t help. And I’ve had the wife and Rosie to think of. These ruffians don’t stick at nothing. But come on now, lads! Bywater is up! We must be in it!’
‘What about Mrs. Cotton and Rosie?’ said Sam. ‘It isn’t safe yet for them to be left all alone.’
‘My Nibs is with them. But you can go and help him, if you have a mind,’ said Farmer Cotton with a grin. Then he and his sons ran off towards the village.
Sam hurried to the house. By the large round door at the top of the steps from the wide yard stood Mrs. Cotton and Rosie, and Nibs in front of them grasping a hay-fork.
‘It’s me!’ shouted Sam as he trotted up. ‘Sam Gamgee! So don’t try prodding me, Nibs. Anyway, I’ve a mail-shirt on me.’
He jumped down from his pony and went up the steps. They stared at him in silence. ‘Good evening, Mrs. Cotton!’ he said. ‘Hullo, Rosie!’
‘Hullo, Sam!’ said Rosie. ‘Where’ve you been? They said you