Again came the stifled underground roar, coming forth with a muffled: "Take--(crash)--eggs--(crash)--damme--(crash)"--and a word beginning with h. "Mercy, Mr. Devil, doan't 'ee take Greggs there. Ah, why did I leave the hangel tavern!" "Damnation!" "No, no, Mr. Devil." "A beastly trick," roared Dick, still butting away. "Aye, kind sir, I'm guilty of many beastly tricks." "Ande, you deceiving cad." "Yes, I confess I 'ave deceived dad." "Here I am--beating m'head." "Aye, I beat un on the 'ead, too," moaned Greggs. "Like a thieving robber." "Yes, Mr. Devil, I robbed un, but 'ave mercy. I promise to take un all back," groaned Greggs, in terror, still kicking his steed, that shied around and around. "Come, take the bag, you wretched cad." "Aye, I promise; I'll take the bag back to dad." "It's full," roared Dick. "No, no, it was honly 'alf full." "Zounds!" swore Dick. "Pounds! No 'e wadn't; they were mostly shillings." "Let me out!" "No! Doan't 'ee come out. I promise, Mr. Devil--Oh!----" The last remark of Greggs gave place to a shriek of agonised fear. The door, under repeated blows of Dick, gave way, and out he rolled with his bag of eggs, looking in the darkness like a hideous monster come up from the deep. The horse, in mad terror, wheeled and galloped back to town; Greggs, praying and howling like a madman, hugging his horse's neck, let fall his basket in the way. Ande was rolling in the grass beyond the hedge, choking with laughter. Dick was a picture of wrath, as he stood sputtering by the road-side. His clothes were foul, the natural result of crawling into a duck cave, and he was apparently sick at the stomach. "What's wrong, Dick?" "A beastly trick,--phew--ah, egg--phew--ah, in mouth,--phew--ah--addled--broke." Ande roared and roared with shrieking laughter. Dick had filled the bag and his pockets, and finding one extra one, had placed it in his mouth for safe keeping, just before the latch gave way. "Well," said Ande, "they aren't all broke, and the most must be good." Dick, at first was very much incensed, but Ande, while he helped to clean him up at the Red River, explained how he had closed the door to avert suspicion. Dick was mollified when the description of Greggs's terrors was related, and laughed a faint laugh that partly brought back his good humour. It appeared that Greggs had ill-treated his poor old father, and had robbed him of some of his savings. Taking warning from the supposed admonition of his Satanic majesty, he afterward treated his father with the greatest consideration, refunding the shillings he had stolen. Nothing, however, could induce him to pass that way again, and the story getting wind and becoming much exaggerated, few would trust themselves in that locality after dusk. "Whew! Look here, Dick." Ande picked up the basket and drew from it a small bottle of rye. "The very thing we need," gasped Dick, "the egg-nog shall become punch."