“Ah! this be kind!--this be good of 'ee, Master Martin. What, you thought how it would be with me? You knowed me long enow, to be zure that I should want summat to cheer me up, did 'ee? Never mind the cork, Master Martin,” continued Saul, as Martin, with a trembling hand, fruitlessly endeavoured to extract the cork; “put it betwixt my teeth, and pull; I'll warrant I do hould vast enow; or knock off the neck o' un against my handcuffs. What, it bean't your leather vlask, be it? Odd! cut un open wi' a knife.--I be a choaking for it, Master Martin;--I be, truly.” By this time, Martin had pulled out part of the cork, and thrust the remainder of it through the neck. He handed the flask to Saul, who gulped down one half of its contents in a few seconds. “There is not enough to divide,” observed Martin, “you may as well finish it.” “No, thank'ee, Master Martin,” replied Braintree, returning the flask; “you'll want a drop for yourself, presently.” “I, Saul!” “Ay! you, Martin!--Look thee, lad,--there be times when the best ov us would be glad ov it Brandy be a God-send; but we don't use it--that is, zuch as I be, doan't--as we should. There be times, I tell'ee, when it be needed.” “That's true enough,” said Martin, endeavouring to force a smile; “I have often been glad of it, after a three hours' tramp through the stubble and turnips, on a cold day, under a heavy double-barrelled gun, with a belt brimful of shot, and no birds in my pocket.” “That were for thy body, lad; but thoult want it, anan, for thy soul. I be gwain to vright--to terrify thee!--Thou'st a tightish heart, and thou'st need ov it now. Mind me, Martin, I bean't romancing. It ha' been smooth roads and no turnpikes wi' thee all thy life; there's a bit o' rough coming, thee doesn't dream of.” “Good God! Braintree! your manner alarms me!--What do you mean?” “Martin!--I zuppoze thee thinks, I ought to be obliged to thee, vor coming to me;--vor bringing a man accused as I be, brandy,--but I bean't. If thee hadst not a' come, I'd ha' brought thee, though a waggon and zix horses were pulling thee t'other way. There's my hand; I ha' put it to thee through a hole in the window at whoam, a'ter thou'st a' wished me good night, and the door were vast;--I do put it out to thee now through a velon's wristband--wou'st take it?” “Excuse me, Braintree!--I would do all I could;--I have even gone beyond the line that a sense of propriety dictates: but you must not take such advantage of the familiarity which commenced when I was a child, and has since, through peculiar circumstances, continued;--you must not, I say, presume upon that, to ask me, to shake hands with a man--” “Accused ov murder! that's what thee means, yean't it?” asked Saul; and his brows were knit, and his lips slightly quivered, as he spoke. Martin stood silent. “Then I'll tell thee what, lad,” pursued Saul, vehemently; “that stomach o' thine shall come down:--I'll _make_ thee!”