"Nay, but this is white magic," said Dick. "It doth naught with the
devil; only the powers of numbers, herbs, and planets."

"Ay, ay," said Pirret; "'tis but white magic, gossip. There is no sin
therein, I do assure you. But proceed, good youth. This spell--in what
should it consist?"

"Nay, that I will incontinently show you," answered Dick. "Have ye
there the ring ye took from my finger? Good! Now hold it forth before
you by the extreme finger-ends, at the arm's length, and over against
the shining of these embers. 'Tis so exactly. Thus, then, is the spell."

With a haggard glance, Dick saw the coast was clear between him and the
door. He put up an internal prayer. Then, whipping forth his arm, he
made but one snatch of the ring, and at the same instant, levering up
the table, he sent it bodily over upon the seaman Tom. He, poor soul,
went down bawling under the ruins; and before Arblaster understood that
anything was wrong, or Pirret could collect his dazzled wits, Dick had
run to the door and escaped into the moonlit night.

The moon, which now rode in the mid-heavens, and the extreme whiteness
of the snow, made the open ground about the harbour bright as day; and
young Shelton leaping, with kilted robe, among the lumber, was a
conspicuous figure from afar.

Tom and Pirret followed him with shouts; from every drinking-shop they
were joined by others whom their cries aroused; and presently a whole
fleet of sailors was in full pursuit. But Jack ashore was a bad runner,
even in the fifteenth century, and Dick, besides, had a start, which he
rapidly improved, until, as he drew near the entrance of a narrow lane,
he even paused and looked laughingly behind him.

Upon the white floor of snow all the shipmen of Shoreby came clustering
in an inky mass, and tailing out rearward in isolated clumps. Every man
was shouting or screaming; every man was gesticulating with both arms in
air; some one was continually falling; and to complete the picture, when
one fell, a dozen would fall upon the top of him.

The confused mass of sound which they rolled up as high as to the moon
was partly comical and partly terrifying to the fugitive whom they were
hunting. In itself, it was impotent, for he made sure no seaman in the
port could run him down. But the mere volume of noise, in so far as it
must awake all the sleepers in Shoreby, and bring all the skulking
sentries to the street, did really threaten him with danger in the
fr