"Yes, twelve o'clock noon, precisely;" and with that, George's employer vanished in the gloom, and left him to wind his way out of that dreary labyrinth the best way he could. He found it no easy matter, for his lamps were not lighted, and he could not see an ell before him--he could not even perceive his horses' ears; and what was worse, there was a rushing sound, like that of a town on fire, all around him, that stunned his senses, so that he could not tell whether his horses were moving or standing still. George was in the greatest distress imaginable, and was glad when he perceived the gate before him, with his two identical friends, men of the law, still standing. George drove boldly up, accosted them by their names, and asked what they were doing there; they made him no answer, but pointed to the gate and the keeper. George was terrified to look at this latter personage, who now came up and seized his horses by the reins, refusing to let him pass. In order to introduce himself, in some degree, to this austere toll-man, George asked him, in a jocular manner, how he came to employ his two eminent friends as assistant gate-keepers? "Because they are among the last comers," replied the ruffian, churlishly. "You will be an assistant here, to-morrow." "The devil I will, sir?" "Yes, the devil you will, sir." "I'll be d--d if I do then--that I will." "Yes, you'll be d--d if you do--that you will." "Let my horses go in the meantime, then, sir, that I may proceed on my journey." "Nay." "Nay?--Dare you say nay to me, sir? My name is George Dobson, of the Pleasance, Edinburgh, coach-driver, and coach-proprietor too; and no man shall say _nay_ to me, as long as I can pay my way. I have his Majesty's license, and I'll go and come as I choose--and that I will. Let go my horses there, and tell me what is your demand."