"Have you slept well ?" I rubbed my eyes and took long draughts of the morning breeze.
"Are you a warlock, Mr.Campbell, that you can spirit folk about the country at your pleasure?
I have slept sound, but my dreams have been bad." "Yes," he said; "what sort of dreams, maybe ?" "I dreamed I was in a wild place among wild men, and that I saw murder done.

The look of the man who did it was not unlike your own." "You have dreamed true," he said gravely; "but you have the wrong word for it.

Others would call it justice." "What sort of justice ?" said I, "when you had no court or law but just what you made yourself." "Is it not a stiff Whiggamore ?" he said, looking skywards.

"Why, man, all justice is what men make themselves.

What hinders the Free Companions from making as honest laws as any cackling Council in the towns?
Did you see the man Cosh?
Have you heard anything of his doings, and will you deny that the world was well quit of him?
There's a decency in all trades, and Cosh fair stank to heaven.