The younger man, whose hair was very short, wore the ordinary smock-frock euphoniously termed a "cow-gown," but as he was journeying, it was tucked up round his hips. This, with his soft wide-awake, and heavy unlaced boots, was bucolic enough, but there the rustic aspect ceased, for his face was sallow; he had a slovenly tied cotton handkerchief round his neck; and as he smoked a dirty, short clay pipe, he had more the aspect of a Whitechapel or Sheffield rough than the ordinary farming man of the country. Taking them together, they seemed to be men who could manage a piece of horse-stealing, poach, rob a hen-roost, or pay a visit night or day to any unprotected house; and if "gaol" was not stamped legibly on each face, it was because nature could not write it any plainer than she had. "He's gotten high in the instep, Ike," said the last man; "and what's he got to be proud on?" "Ah, to be sure, what's he got to be proud on?" chuckled the other. "He wasn't always a stuck up one, was he?" "I say, Johnny," said the first speaker, "keep that dog o' yourn away wilt ta, or I might give him something as wouldn't do him no good." "Here, Top, down dog!" said the young man, and a rough-looking dog which had been snuffing round the two strangers showed his teeth a little and then lay down in the dusty road. "I don't want," continued the young man, "to be rough on men I used to know." "Rough, lad; no, I should think not," said Ike, of the whip; and he gave it a lash, cutting off the heads of some nettles. "I knew he was all raight, Jem." "I said," continued the young man, "that I didn't want to be surly to men as I used to know, and if you want a shilling or two to help you on the road, here they are. As for me, I've dropped all your work, and taken to getting an honest living." "Oh, ho, ho!" laughed Ike, of the whip, giving it another flick, and making the dog jump. "Dost ta hear that, Jem?" "Ay, lad, I hear him," said Jem, of the smock-frock, hugging himself as if afraid to lose what he considered particularly good; "I'm hearing of him. But come along, John; we won't be hard on such a honest old boy. Show us the way to the dram-shop, or the nearest public, and we'll talk old times over a gill or two o' yale." "You are going one way. I'm going the other," said John Maine, uneasily, for just then Tom Podmore passed him, with big Harry, both of whom stared hard, nodded to him, and went on. "Just hark at him, Ike," said Jem. "He's a strange nice un, he is. Why, I'm so glad to see him that if he goes off that-a-way I shall stop in Dumford and ask all about him, and where he lives and what he's a doing." John Maine turned cold, while the perspiration stood upon his forehead, for just then Sim Slee came along in the other direction, eyed the party all over, and evidently took mental notes of what he saw. "What is it you want of me?" said the young man, hoarsely.