"Please tell me of it." "Well, I was fighting for Sir Jervas then, him they call 'The Firebrand'--" "Do you mean Sir Jervas Vereker?" "Aye, I do--one o' the bang-up nobs, a tip o' the tippies, but the best sportsman and truest friend ever man fought for--" "Good!" quoth I. "D'ye happen to know him, brother?" enquired Jessamy, with another look of mild surprise. "I begin to think I do not," I answered. "Pray, why is he called 'The Firebrand'?" "Because he's allus so precious cool, I reckon." "Well, pray continue," I urged. But at this moment we became aware of a confused uproar, a ribaldry of laughter and shouting. Round I started, to see we were approaching a small inn, with a sign bearing the legend "The Ring o' Bells," before which inn stood a number of vehicles and a rough crowd of merrymakers who danced and sang and flourished ale-pots. Beholding this unholy company, my alarm grew, for it seemed their vociferations were directed at us. "Pull up, Tinker--pull up and drink wi' us!" roared one. "Aye--a drink, a drink, come down an' drink!" cried another. "And bring the gal along wi' ye!" cried a third. Suddenly, seeing Jeremy heeded them no whit, a big, swaggering fellow stepped forward, a flashily dressed herculean figure in tops and cords, his high-collared, brass-buttoned coat moulding a mighty chest and spread of shoulder; which formidable person now advanced upon us flourishing a quart pot and with divers of the riotous company at his heels. No honest, sun-burned rustics these, but pallid, narrow-eyed folk whose half-furtive, half-hectoring air gave me a sense of evil streets, of dark alleys and dens where iniquity lurked, and my alarm and abhorrence waxed acute, finding vent in words: "What vile wretches!" "Not so, brother!" answered Jessamy, viewing them with his kindly eyes where they had halted across the road, barring our advance. "No, brother, these are all souls to be snatched to the Lord, one way or t' other, brands to be plucked from the--" "Pull up, Tinker!" roared the big fellow threateningly. "You've got a lass there as I likes the looks on; pull up, d'ye hear! Look at the shape of 'er!" quoth he, pointing out Diana to his companions. "A tidy piece--eh, my bucks an' pippins?" Here rose an answering chorus of laughing profanity and worse, amongst which I caught the words, "Pretty filly!" "A dainty tit!" "A kiss all round, Tom! Share an' share, Tom!" "Oho, Tinker, pull an' be damned t' ye!" Instead of complying, Jeremy touched the pony to faster pace and with a jingling clash of tinware we bore down upon this lewd-tongued company which, howling obscenity, scattered promptly right and left--all except the big man Tom who, with a dexterous leap, caught the rein, jerking and wrenching at the bit with hand so cruelly strong that the poor animal reared up, snorting with fright and pain and the cart came to a lurching standstill.