rown,
as it was then called, to the ample shoulders of which had been attached
two long, narrow, and threadbare epaulets of tarnished silver lace. A
broad buckskin belt was girded, by the help of a large brass buckle,
around his middle, on the outside of his coat, and it served as well to
suspend a rusty sabre, as to furnish support to a hunting knife, which
was thrust into it in front. His nether person was rendered conspicuous
by a pair of dingy small-clothes, and long black boots. Close at the
feet of this redoubtable commander lay a fat, surly bull-dog, whose
snarlish temper seemed to have been fostered and promoted by the
peremptory perverseness with which his master claimed for him all the
privileges and indulgencies of a pampered favorite.

Such were the unattractive exterior and circumstances of the man who
assumed control over the band of ruffians now assembled.

"I wish you and the cards had been broiled on the devil's gridiron
before I ever saw you!" continued Habershaw, after he had consigned the
pack to the flames. "That such a noble beast as Backbiter should be
whipped out of my hand by the turn of a rascally card! Hark'ee, you imp
of Satan, you have the knack of winning! your luck, or something
else--you understand me--something else, would win the shirt off my back
if I was such a fool as to play longer with you. I suspect you are a
light-fingered Jack--a light-fingered Jack--d'ye hear that, Master
Peppercorn?"

"How now, Bully!" cried Peppercorn; "are you turning boy in your old
days, that you must fall to whining because you have lost a turn at
play? Is every man a rogue since you have set up the trade? For shame!
If I were as hot a fool as you, I would give you steel in your guts. But
come, noble Captain, there's my hand. This is no time for us to be
catching quarrels; we have other business cut out. As to Backbiter, the
rat-tailed and spavined bone-setter, curse me if I would have him as a
gift: a noble beast! ha, ha, ha! Take him back, man, take him back! he
wasn't worth the cards that won him."

"Silence, you tailor's bastard! Would you breed a mutiny in the camp?
Look around you: do you expect me to preserve discipline amongst these
wild wood-scourers, with your loud haw-haws to my very teeth? You make
too free, Peppercorn; you make too free! It wouldn't take much to make
me strike; damn me, there's fighting blood in me, and you know it. When
I am at the head of my men, you must know your dist