t in a row,' says 'e; 'I knocked a man down and he's dead.
Oh, for God's sake, hide me! I've run all the way from Chatham.'

Then my old man, he steps out on the deck, and Jarvis, 'e see who it
was, and--'O my God!' says 'e, and 'e almost fell back in the water
in 'is fright.

Then my old man, 'e took that soldier by the arm, and 'e open the
door of the little cabin where my Pretty and 'er baby were. Then 'e
slammed it to again. 'No, I can't,' says 'e, 'by God, I can't.' And
before the soldier could speak, he'd dragged him down our cabin
stairs, and shoved 'im into 'is own bunk and chucked the covers over
'im. Then 'e come up to where I was standin' in the moonlight.

'What ever you done that for?' says I. 'Why not 'a give 'im up to
serve 'im out for what 'e done to our Pretty?'

He looked at me stupid-like. 'I don't know why,' says 'e, 'but I
can't'; and we stood there in the quiet night, me a-holding on to
'is arm, for I was shivering, so I could hardly stand.

And presently half a dozen soldiers come by with a sergeant.

'Hullo!' cries the sergeant, 'see any redcoat go this way?'

'He's gone up over the bridge,' says Tom, not turnin' a 'air, 'im
that I'd never 'eard tell a lie in his life before,--'You'll catch
'im if you look slippy; what's 'e done?'

'Only murder and desertion,' says the sergeant, as cheerful as you
please.

'Oh, is that all?' says my old man; 'good-night to you.'

'Good-night,' says the sergeant, and off they went.

They didn't come back our way. We was a-goin' down stream, and we
passed Chatham next mornin'.

Bill Jarvis, 'e lay close in the bunk, and my Pretty, she wouldn't
come out of 'er cabin; and at Chatham, my old man, 'e says, 'I'm
goin' ashore for a bit, old woman; you lay-to and wait for me.' And
he went.

Then I went in to my Pretty and I told her all about it, for she
knew nothin' but that Jarvis was aboard; and when I'd told 'er, she
said, 'I couldn't 'a' done it, no, not for a kingdom.'

'No more couldn't I,' ses I. 'Father's a better chap nor you and me,
my Pretty.'

Presently my old man come back from the town, and he goes down to
the bunk where Bill Jarvis is lying, and 'e says, 'Look 'ere, Bill,'
says 'e, 'you didn't kill your man last night, and after all, it was
in a fair rough-and-tumble. The man's doing well. You take my tip
and go back and give yourself up; they won't be 'ard on you.'

And Bill 'e looked at 'im all of a tremble. 'By God,' says 'e,
'you'r