"Ain't you pirates yourselves?" cried Aunt Amanda. "What?" said the voice. "Is there a lady here? In that case, you are probably not pirates. Perhaps we have been too hasty. I beg your pardon." "Who are you?" said Aunt Amanda. "Do you admit that you are not pirates?" said the voice. "Admit it!" said Aunt Amanda. "We vow and declare it! The very idea!" "I am sorry to hear it," said the voice. "We are deeply disappointed. We of course cannot doubt the word of a lady, but we were almost sure we had found them. We have been searching for pirates for a long time, and we were advised that they lived somewhere near here. We must have missed our way. Could you perhaps direct us? It is a place called High Dudgeon." "You bet we could," said Toby, "but we won't. We are running away from there, and you had better run too." "Then perhaps you happen to know the whereabouts of a place called Low Dudgeon, where the pirates formerly lived?" "We do," said Toby. "You are about half-way now between High Dudgeon and Low Dudgeon; and you had better get out of this neighborhood as fast as you can." "This is very interesting," said the voice. "I feel that you will be able to give us some valuable information. If you have no objection, we will walk behind you until we come to a place where there is more light, when we will have a few minutes' conversation on this interesting subject." The seven dark figures stood aside, and the mules moved onward. The seven figures walked behind. In five minutes they reached a patch of ground where the moon shone brightly through the trees, and the riders drew in their animals, and turned to look at the figures who now marched sedately up beside them. These figures stood in a row facing the riders, and six of them turned their heads to the right, looking towards the first in the row, who was probably their leader. They were seven tall men, dressed in black frock coats and striped trousers, with pearl-gray spats; but instead of high silk hats each wore a small black skull-cap, as more convenient, no doubt, for their rough life in the forest. It could be seen that they were no ordinary men; they looked like professors at college; their faces were thoughtful and even intellectual; each one wore spectacles; they squinted as if from too much poring over books by lamplight. The one at the head of the row was fat, with mutton-chop whiskers, and his frock coat was buttoned tight over a round stomach. He spoke in the same voice which they had heard in the dark. "I beg your pardon," said he. "If you will be so kind as to direct us either to High Dudgeon or to Low Dudgeon, we will not fail to gratefully acknowledge--" "Aha!" said one of the others, in a playful tone. "A split infinitive, Professor!" "I beg your pardon. A slight inadvertence. To acknowledge gratefully your kind--"