Presently he gained the entrance to the pass and began the ascent, which was gradual, with a riotous windlass song, in which the sentiments, yo! heave! and ho! were most frequently expressed. As he drew near, the gypsy might have been observed to grin a smile that would have been quite captivating but for some obstinate peculiarity about the muscles of the mouth which rendered it very repulsive. Next moment the sailor-boy was abreast of him. The moment after that the bushes parted, and the gypsy confronted his victim, cutting a tremendous "heave!" short in the middle, and converting the "ho!" that should have followed, into a prolonged whistle of astonishment. "Hah! my lad, you remember me, it seems?" "Remember you? Yes, I just do!" answered the boy, in whose countenance every trace of boyishness was instantly swallowed up in an intense gaze of manly determination. This mute but meaning glance had such a strange effect upon the gypsy that he actually cowered for a moment, and looked as if he were afraid he was going to "catch it." However, he forced a laugh and said-- "Come, Billy, you needn't look so cross. You know I was hard put to it w'en I sent you aboord the `Fair Nancy,' and you shouldn't ought to owe me a grudge for puttin' ye in the way o' makin' yer fortin'." The man kept edging towards the boy as he spoke, but the boy observed this and kept edging away, regarding the man with compressed lips and dilated eyes, but not vouchsafing a word in reply. "I say, Billy, it's unkind, you know, to forget old times like this. I want to shake hands; and there's my old woman up on the hill as wants to see you again." Suddenly the fierce look left the boy's face, and was replaced by a wild, waggish expression. "Oh! your old woman wants to see me, does she? And you want to shake hands, do you? Now look here, Growler; I see through you! You thought to catch a flat, and you'll find you've caught a tartar; or, rather, that the tartar has caught _you_. But I've grown merciful since I went to sea," (the lad tucked-up his wristbands at this point, as if he really meditated a hand-to-hand encounter with his huge antagonist). "I _do_ remember old times, and I know how richly you deserve to be hanged; but I don't want to mix up my home-coming, if I can help it, with dirty work. Now, I'll tell you what--I'll give you your choice o' two courses. Either take yourself off and be out o' hail of this part of the country within twelve hours, or walk with me to the nearest police station and give yourself up. There--I'll give you exactly two minutes to think over it."