“No! I must now return with you, thanks to your interference. By Heavens, Ben, I knew, at your coming, that you would do mischief; you have been a marplot ever; and after this, I am half-resolved to forswear your society for ever.” “Nay, nay! do not say so, Warham. It was unfortunate, I grant you; but how the devil should either of us guess that such a Turk as that was in the bush?” “Enough for the present,” said the other. “It is not now whether I wish to ride with you or not. There is no choice. There is no return to Charlemont.” “And that's the name of the place, is it?” “Yes! yes! Much good may the knowledge of it do you.” “How fortunate that this silly fellow concluded to let you off on such a promise. What an ass!” “Yes! but he may grow wiser! Put spurs to your jade, and let us see what her heels are good for, for the next three hours. I do not yet feel secure. The simpleton may grow wiser and change his mind.” “He can scarcely do us harm now, if he does.” “Indeed!” said Stevens--“you know nothing. There's such a thing as hue and cry, and its not unfrequently practised in these regions, when the sheriff is not at hand and constables are scarce. Every man is then a sheriff.” “Well--but there's no law-process against us!” “You are a born simpleton, I think,” said Stevens, with little scruple. He was too much mortified to be very heedful of the feelings of his companion. “There needs no law in such a case, at least for the CAPTURE of a supposed criminal; and, for that matter, they do not find it necessary for his punishment either. Hark ye, Ben--there's a farmhouse?” “Yes, I see it!” “Don't you smell tar?--They're running it now!” “I think I do smell something like it. What of it?” “Do you see that bed hanging from yon window?” “Yes! of course I see it!” “It is a feather-bed!” “Well--what of that? Why tell me this stuff? Of course I can guess as well as you that it's a feather-bed, since I see a flock of geese in the yard with their necks all bare.” “Hark ye, then! There's something more than this, which you may yet see! Touch up your mare. If this fellow brings the mob at Ellisland upon us, that tar will be run, and that feather-bed gutted, for our benefit. What they took from the geese will be bestowed on us. Do you understand me? Did you ever hear of a man whose coat was made of tar and feathers, and furnished at the expense of the county?” “Hush, for God's sake, Warham! you make my blood run cold with your hideous notions!” “That fellow offered to frizzle your whiskers. These would anoint them with tar, in which your bear's oil would be of little use.” “Ha! don't you hear a noise?” demanded the whiskered companion, looking behind him. “I think I do,” replied the other musingly. “A great noise!” continued Don Whiskerandos. “Yes, it seems to me that it is a great noise.” “Like people shouting?” “Somewhat--yes, by my soul, that DOES sound something like a shout!”