oked about him would
pull his neighbour by the sleeve, and there he would be among them.

At last, one man--he was one of those whose commerce lay among the
graves--resolved to question this strange companion. Next night, when
he had eat his poor meal voraciously (he was accustomed to do that, they
had observed, as though he had no other in the day), this fellow sat
down at his elbow.

'A black night, master!'

'It is a black night.'

'Blacker than last, though that was pitchy too. Didn't I pass you near
the turnpike in the Oxford Road?'

'It's like you may. I don't know.'

'Come, come, master,' cried the fellow, urged on by the looks of his
comrades, and slapping him on the shoulder; 'be more companionable and
communicative. Be more the gentleman in this good company. There are
tales among us that you have sold yourself to the devil, and I know not
what.'

'We all have, have we not?' returned the stranger, looking up. 'If we
were fewer in number, perhaps he would give better wages.'

'It goes rather hard with you, indeed,' said the fellow, as the stranger
disclosed his haggard unwashed face, and torn clothes. 'What of that? Be
merry, master. A stave of a roaring song now'--

'Sing you, if you desire to hear one,' replied the other, shaking him
roughly off; 'and don't touch me if you're a prudent man; I carry
arms which go off easily--they have done so, before now--and make it
dangerous for strangers who don't know the trick of them, to lay hands
upon me.'

'Do you threaten?' said the fellow.

'Yes,' returned the other, rising and turning upon him, and looking
fiercely round as if in apprehension of a general attack.

His voice, and look, and bearing--all expressive of the wildest
recklessness and desperation--daunted while they repelled the
bystanders. Although in a very different sphere of action now, they were
not without much of the effect they had wrought at the Maypole Inn.

'I am what you all are, and live as you all do,' said the man sternly,
after a short silence. 'I am in hiding here like the rest, and if we
were surprised would perhaps do my part with the best of ye. If it's my
humour to be left to myself, let me have it. Otherwise,'--and here
he swore a tremendous oath--'there'll be mischief done in this place,
though there ARE odds of a score against me.'

A low murmur, having its origin perhaps in a dread of the man and the
mystery that surrounded him, or perhaps in a sincere opinion on t