ime with the youths of London town.
One party will put a barrel ready in yon doorway on purpose, and if
it be not removed, it will like enough be used ere morning. We had
best go in search of the poor creature; for ofttimes they are sore
put to it to get free from the cask--if they be stout in person at
least."

And, indeed, as they neared the foot of the hill, they heard a
groaning and stifled crying for help; and, sure enough, they found
a buxom woman, the wife of a respectable citizen, tightly wedged
into the cask, and much shaken and bruised by her rapid transit
down the hill, although, when released with some difficulty, she
was able to walk home, escorted by her rescuers, and bitterly
inveighing against the wickedness of the world in general and
London's young bullies in particular.

"The best thing, good dame, is not to be abroad at such an hour
alone," advised Cale.

"Yes, truly; and yet it was but the matter of a few streets; and it
seems hard a woman may not sit beside a sick neighbour for a while
without being served so on her way back. My husband was to have
come for me; but must have been detained. Pray heaven he has not
fallen in with a band of Mohocks, and had the nose of him split
open--to say nothing of worse!"

"Are men really served so bad as that?" asked Tom, as the two
turned back from the citizen's house whither they had escorted
their grateful protegee.

"Worse sometimes," answered Cale, with a shake of the head. "Those
Mohocks should be wiped out without mercy by the arm of the law;
for mercy they show none. They have read of the horrid cruelties
practised by the Indians whose name they bear, and they seek to do
the like to the hapless victims whom ill-fortune casts in their
way. There be men whose eyes they have gouged out, and whose noses
have been cut off, whose brains have been turned by the terror and
agony they have been through. And yet these men go free; and
law-abiding citizens are allowed to quake in their beds at the
sound of their voices in the street, or the sight of their badges
even in broad daylight. I call it a sin and a shame that such
things can be. Well, well, well, let us hope that, when the great
Duke comes home, he may be able to put a stop to these things. Even
in warfare, men say, he is merciful, and will permit no extortion
and no cruelty. We citizens of London will give him a right royal
welcome; perchance we may be able to crave a boon of him in return.
He--or