n," said Coates; "never mind
Tom King; another time will do for him."

"No such thing," said Paterson; "one _weighs_ just as much for that
matter as t'other. I'll take Tom to myself, and surely you two, with the
landlord and ostler, can manage Turpin amongst you."

"I don't know that," said Coates, doubtfully; "he's a devil of a fellow
to deal with."

"Take him quietly," said Paterson. "Draw the chaise out of the way, lad.
Take our tits to one side, and place their nags near the door, ostler.
Shall you be able to see him, ma'am, where you are?" asked the chief
constable, walking to the carriage, and touching his hat to the lady
within. Having received a satisfactory nod from the bonnet and veil, he
returned to his companions. "And now, gemmen," added he, "let's step
aside a little. Don't use your fire-arms too soon."

As if conscious of what was passing around her, and of the danger that
awaited her master, Black Bess exhibited so much impatience, and plunged
so violently, that it was with difficulty the ostler could hold her.
"The devil's in the mare," said he; "what's the matter with her? She was
quiet enough a few minutes since. Soho! lass, stand."

Turpin and King, meanwhile, walked quickly through the house, preceded
by the host, who conducted them, and not without some inward
trepidation, towards the door. Arrived there, each man rushed swiftly to
his horse. Dick was in the saddle in an instant, and stamping her foot
on the ostler's leg, Black Bess compelled the man, yelling with pain, to
quit his hold of the bridle. Tom King was not equally fortunate. Before
he could mount his horse, a loud shout was raised, which startled the
animal, and caused him to swerve, so that Tom lost his footing in the
stirrup, and fell to the ground. He was instantly seized by Paterson,
and a struggle commenced, King endeavoring, but in vain, to draw a
pistol.

"Flip him,[108] Dick; fire, or I'm taken," cried King. "Fire! damn you,
why don't you fire?" shouted he, in desperation, still struggling
vehemently with Paterson, who was a strong man, and more than a match
for a light weight like King.

"I can't," cried Dick; "I shall hit you, if I fire."

"Take your chance," shouted King. "Is _this_ your friendship?"

Thus urged, Turpin fired. The ball ripped up the sleeve of Paterson's
coat, but did not wound him.

"Again!" cried King. "Shoot him, I say. Don't you hear me? Fire again!"

Pressed as he was by foes on every side, h