e boughs of the
several trees that hemmed in the circle, and were ready for service at
the first call. A small fire of brushwood had been kindled near the foot
of the chestnut, and its blaze was sufficiently strong to throw a bright
glare over the motley and ill-looking crew who were assembled near it.
They might well have been taken for a bivouac of banditti of the most
undisciplined and savage class. A small party were broiling venison at
the fire: the greater number, however, were stretched out upon the
ground in idleness, waiting for some expected summons to action. The two
I have first noticed, were seated on the butt-end of a fallen trunk,
immediately within the light of the fire, and were engaged with a pack
of dirty cards, at the then popular game of "all fours."

These two personages were altogether different in exterior from each
other. The first of them, known only by the sobriquet of Peppercorn, was
a tall, well-proportioned and active man, neatly dressed in the uniform
of a British dragoon. His countenance indicated more intelligence than
belonged to his companions, and his manners had the flexible, bold, and
careless port that generally distinguishes a man who has served much in
the army, and become familiar with the varieties of character afforded
by such a career. The second was Hugh Habershaw, the captain of the
gang. He was a bluff, red-visaged, corpulent man, with a face of gross,
unmitigated sensuality. A pale blood-shot eye, which was expressionless,
except in a sinister glance, occasioned by a partial squint, a small
upturned nose, a mouth with thin and compressed lips inclining downwards
at the corners, a double chin, bristling with a wiry and almost white
beard, a low forehead, a bald crown, and meagre, reddish whiskers, were
the ill-favored traits of his physiognomy. The figure of this person was
as uncouth as his countenance. He was rather below the middle height,
and appeared still shorter by the stoop of his massive round shoulders,
by the ample bulk of his chest, and by the rotundity of his
corporation. In consideration of his rank, as the leader of this
vagabond squadron, he aimed at more military ornament in his dress than
his comrades. A greasy cocked hat, decorated after the fashion described
by Grumio, "with the humor of forty fancies pricked in it for a
feather," was perched somewhat superciliously upon his poll, and his
body was invested in an old and much abused cloth coat of London b