“Ay, so they was. I’ve seen two men ’angin’ in chains on Camley Moor when I was about ten--it were for sheep-stealin’, and put the fear o’ death on me. Surely I can ’ear them chains a-clankin’ now!” Wynyard felt as if he had been suddenly precipitated into another world. Here he was, sitting talking to a live man, who discoursed familiarly of hanging in chains, and the press gang! “Would you take something, sir?” he asked. “I’d like to drink your health.” “Ay, ay, I don’t mind ’avin’ a glass wi’ ye. Ginders! Ginders!” raising his voice, “give us a taste of yer old beer, the _best_--two half-pints;” and, as they were brought, he looked at Wynyard, and said, “To ye, young sir, and good luck to ye in Ottinge; may ye live as long as I do!” “Thank you; have you any prescription for your wonderful health?” “Ay, I have so. Look ’ere, I’ve not tasted medicine for fifty year. I don’t hold wi’ doctors. I only eat twice a day--my breakfast at eight, and my dinner at two. My daughter she do mike me a cup o’ tea at six, but I don’t want it, and it’s only to oblige _her_. Work--work’s the thing when yer young. I mind bein’ in the train one day, and a great heavy man complainin’ o’ his pore ’ealth, and ’is inside, and another says, ‘I can tell ye o’ a cure, master, and a sure one.’ ‘What’s that?’ ses ’e, all alive. ‘Rise of a mornin’ at four o’clock, and mow an acre before ye break yer fast, and go on mowing all day--that will cure ye--ye’ll be a new man.’ ‘I’d be a dead un,’ ses ’e. _My_ advice is: no medicine, short commons, lots of work, and there ye are, and ye’ll live to maybe a hundred.” “But what about cuts and wounds? How do you doctor them?” “Oh, just a plaster o’ earth, or a couple o’ lily leaves. One is as good as t’other. Well, I’m a-goin’,” struggling to his feet; “an old gaffer like me keeps early hours.” As Wynyard handed him his stick, he slapped him smartly on the back, and it was evident from this accolade that the “shover” was now made free of the Drum. The newcomer looked about him, some were playing dominoes, some cards, one or two were reading the day’s papers, and all the time the Captain sat immovable in a corner, and his eyes never moved from Wynyard. Such cold, impassive staring made him feel uncomfortable, and settling his reckoning he presently followed old Thunder’s example and went home.