"I think of the horses," I answered grimly. "'Tis for you to think of
your mother. How could I think of your mother when I wouldn't know her
from the Head of Kinsale, if it didn't happen that I know the Head of
Kinsale too well to mistake it for anybody's mother?"

"You speak like a man from foreign parts, sir," he rejoined in a meek
voice; "but I am able to see that your meaning is serious."

"'Tis so serious," said I, rapping him gently on the head with the
butt of my pistol, "that if you don't instantly display a greedy
activity you will display a perfect inability to move."

"The speeching is obscure," said he, "but the rap on the head is
clear to me. Still, it was not kind of you to hit me on the same spot
twice."

He now arose from his mournful seat on the ground, and, still rubbing
his pate, he asked me to follow him. We moved from the highway into a
very narrow lane, and for some time proceeded in silence.

"'Tis a regular dog's life," spoke Jem Bottles after a period of
reflection.

By this time I had grown a strong sympathy for my scoundrel.

"Come, cheer yourself, Jem Bottles," said I. "I have known a lesser
ruffian who was hanged until he was dry, whereas you march along the
lane with nought to your discouragement but three cracks in your
crown."

"'Tis not the cracks in the crown," he answered moodily. "'Tis what my
mother will say."

"I had no thought that highwaymen had mothers," said I. I had resolved
now to take care of his pride, for I saw that he was bound to be
considered a great highwayman, and I did not wish to disturb his
feelings until I gained possession of one of the horses. But now he
grew as indignant as he dared.

"Mother? Mother, sir? Do you think me an illegitimate child? I say to
you flat in your face, even if you kill me the next instant, that I
have a mother. Perchance I am not of the lofty gentry who go about
beating honest highwaymen to the earth, but I repulse with scorn any
man's suggestion that I am illegitimate. In a quarter of an hour you
shall see my mother for yourself."

"Peace, Jem Bottles," said I soothingly. "I took no thought of such a
thing. I would be thinking only of the ballads, and how honourable it
is that a gallant and dashing life should be celebrated in song. I,
for certain, have never done anything to make a pothouse ring with my
name, and I liken you to the knights of olden days who tilted in all
simple fair bravery without being able to wager