"Give us your word," said one, "that you've no more stowed about you." "I won't," answered the old gentleman. "All the word you'll get from me is to see you hanged if I can. If you think it worth while, search me." Just then they were summoned by a shout from the coach roof to help in lowering my treasure. My pistol was reloaded by this time, and I lifted myself to take aim and account for one of the scoundrels at least: but in the effort my broken bone played me false; my hand shook, then dropped, and I sank upon my face in a swoon of pain. I came back to consciousness to find myself propped on the edge of the ditch against a milestone. The coach was gone. Driver, guard, highwaymen, even the corporal's body, had disappeared also. But just before me in the road, under the light of a newly-risen waning moon, stood the inside passenger, hopping first on one leg then on the other for warmth; and indeed the villains had despoiled him of three of his greatcoats. I sat up, groaned, and tried to lift my hands to my face. My companion ceased hopping about and regarded me with interest. "Lost money?" he inquired. "Public money," I answered, and groaned again. "It means ruin for me," I added. "Well," said he, "I've lost my own--every stiver about me." He began to hop about again, halted, and began to wag his forefinger at me slowly. "Come, come, what's the use? I'm sorry for you, but where's your heart?" I stared, not well knowing what to make of his manner. "Look here," he went on after awhile, "you're thinking that you've lost your character. Very well; any bones broken?" "My collar-bone, I think." "Which, at your age, will heal in no time. Anything else?" "A twist of the hip, here, and a cut in the head, I believe." "Tut, tut! Good appetite?" He had approached, unwound his enormous woollen comforter, and was beginning to bandage me with it, by no means unskilfully. I thought his question a mad one, and no doubt my face, as he peered into it, told him so. "I mean," he explained, "will you ever be able to eat a beef-steak again-- say, a trifle underdone, with a dozen of oysters for prelude--and drink beer, d'ye think, and enjoy them both?" "No doubt." "And kiss a pretty girl, and be glad to do it?" "Very likely." "And fight?" He eyed his bandage critically, stepped back upon the road and danced about, stamping with his feet while he cut and thrust at an imaginary enemy. "And fight, hey?" "I suppose so." "Then, bless the lad," he exclaimed, stopping and looking at me as fierce as a rat, "get on your legs, and don't sit moping as if life were a spilt posset!" There was no disobeying this masterful old gentleman, so I made shift to stand up. "We have but one life to live," said he. "I beg your pardon?" "--In this world. God forgive me, I'd almost forgotten my cloth! We have, I say, only one life to live in this world, and must make the best of it. I tell you so, and I'm a clergyman." "Indeed, sir?"