Galloping Dick
lining to my pockets, and being buckled up, pretty lively, upon the way to Polly. ’Twas Old Irons that caught me at the “Blue Boar,” where we sat cracking our bottles and gibbering away in a maudlin sort of fashion for the better side of two hours. Old Irons was fair set in wine, and must needs come at last to bragging at the pitch of his voice; swearing his was a smarter blade, and calling upon me in loud oaths to try his mettle; and then, as if this were too little, falling upon me and beslobbering me with affection, styling me his brother-in-arms, and vowing in the next breath that all upon the High Toby save himself were dirty devils, and fit for nothing but to pimp about a boiling-house. You may suppose this stuff was hardly to my taste for all the wine that I had drunk, nor was the landlord any easier, I could see, from the frightened glances he threw at us.
“Damme,” says I at length, “close up, you man of mouth; or you’ll find us warming the inside of the Jug.”
And with that, and ere I had a notion, the trick was done, the traps were on us, and there
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