On recovering from their first astonishment, Bags begged Owen would overlook the offence; they were only, he pleaded, having a little spree--times had been hard lately. Mrs Bags, as usual, displayed great eloquence, though not much to the purpose. She seemed to have some idea that an enumeration of the gentlemen's families she had lived in, and the high estimation in which she had been held in all, would really tell powerfully in favour of the delinquents, and persevered accordingly, till they were marched off in custody of the escort, when she made a final appeal to my grandfather, as the last gentleman whose family she had lived in--with what advantage to the household the reader knows. The Major, who could not forgive the roasting of his ham, called her, in reply, a "horrible woman," but, at the same time, whispered to Owen that he hoped the fellows would not be severely punished. "If we had caught them after dinner," said he, "I shouldn't have pitied them so much." "Never mind them," said Owen; "let us proceed to business. We must select the driest spot we can find to put the stores in." [Here, by way of taking leave of Mr Bags, I may remark, that he narrowly escaped being hanged as a plunderer--failing which, he was sentenced by a court-martial to receive a number of lashes, which I refrain from specifying, because it would certainly make the hair of a modern humanitarian turn white with horror.] "Come along, Major," said Owen; "perhaps we may find more of these scoundrels in the course of our researches." The Major did not move; he was earnestly regarding the carcass of the pig, that steamed hissing above the embers. "Queer idea that of the cinnamon fire," said he. "I wonder how the meat tastes." Owen did not hear him, having walked forward. "Have you got a knife about you, Frank?" said the Major. "Do you know I have a curious desire to ascertain the flavour. It may be a feature in cookery worth knowing." Owen had not a knife, nor had any of the men, but one of them suggested that the Major's sword would answer the purpose. "To be sure," said the Major. "A good idea! I don't see why swords shouldn't be turned into carving-knives as well as into pruning-hooks." So saying he drew it from the sheath, and, straddling across the fire, detached a crisp brown mouthful from the pig's ribs, and putting a little salt on it, he conveyed it to his mouth. "Excellent!" cried the Major. "I give you my word of honour, Owen, 'tis excellent! The cinnamon gives it a sort of a----" Here a second and larger mouthful interrupted the criticism. "It must be very near lunch-time," said the Major, pausing, sword in hand, when he had swallowed it; then, pretending to look at his watch--"Bless me, it only wants half-an-hour of it. Do you think this business will take you long, Owen?" "About a couple of hours," said Owen.