he road, and out of all patience I turns
round and tips up her basket, and all the apples roll into the mud.
A tar who was smoking against the wall says something under his
breath and begins to gather up the apples. 'Leave that, sirrah!'
says I. He begs my pardon and goes on as before.

"I up with my cane and was laying on for his insolence when Benbow
roars out ('twas under the window of his inn) 'What be you a-doin'
of?' That's how he speaks. 'What be you a-doin' of?' says he.

"'I'm a-teachin' of him manners,' says I.

"'I'll teach you manners,' he roars, and orders me back to my ship,
and humiliates a gemman before a lout with hair as red as fire and
legs that made a circle."

"Why, sure 'twas Joe Punchard," cries Cludde, "a fellow that near
killed a friend o' mine," and he breaks into the old School
distich--

"O, pi, rho, bandy-legged Joe,
Turnip and carrots wherever you go."

and the others screamed with maudlin laughter.

"I know who was the gemman," whispers Mistress Appleby, who had
heard it all.

Shortly afterwards, being in high good humor after vindicating
their quality as gentlemen, the three called for their reckoning
and went round to the stables to see to their horses. I seized the
opportunity to make my escape, taking leave very heartily of my
kind host and hostess. I was not sorry to get upon the road again,
having purposed to cover at least twenty-five or thirty miles
before night. It was downhill now, and I was swinging along at a
good pace when I heard horses behind me and saw, with annoyance,
that I might not escape unnoticed, after all. Cludde and his
companions were cantering down the hill, at the risk of mishap, for
naval officers are notoriously bad horsemen, and one of them--
Kirkby, I doubt not--was swaying in his saddle. I stepped down to
the side of a brook which skirted the road, hoping they would pass
me by; but my lanky body was not one to escape remark, and Kirkby
himself as he came up threw a jest at my height. Cludde gave me a
glance, and a malicious smile sat upon his face.

"Poor beggar!" he said in an undertone, but loud enough for me to
hear, and he flung me a coin, which struck my arm and rolled to the
brink of the brook. In a trice I was up the bank, hot with a mad
rage to come to grips with the fellow. But he had anticipated the
movement, and setting spurs to his horse was beyond my reach. I
disdained to pursue him; indeed it would have been vain; I could
but sto