I tell you my future life will be beggary--" "You'll want me anyways, sir," retorted Rake, ashamed of the choking in his throat.

"I ask your pardon for interrupting, but every second's that precious like.

Besides, sir, I've got to cut and run for my own sake.
I've laid Willon's head open, down there in the loose box; and when he's come to himself a pretty hue and cry he'll raise after me.

He painted the King, that's what he did; and I told him so, and I give it to him--one--two--amazing! Get into saddle, sir, for the Lord's sake! And here, Bill--you run back, shut the door, and don't let nobody know the 'osses are out till the morning.

Then look like a muff as you are, and say nothing!" The stable-boy stared, nodded assent, and sloped off.