Galloping Dick
“That’s well,” he says. “Friends should not quarrel, specially as their fellowship must be so soon determined,” and smacked his lips. “Lord, Ryder,” says he, gazing at the ceiling, “you’re but a young hand, smart for your age, no doubt, but lacking the master’s cunning. There was that job at Petersfield, now—Clinch would never have undertook that, nor Starbottle neither. ’Twas your impetuosity misled you. For my part I should ha’ waited for the fall of dark, catched ’em up three leagues t’other side, nicked ’em in the forest, and then, as comfortable as you like, I should ha’ had ’em under my pistols, with never a star to witness and wooden ears to hear. ’Twould ha’ been as easy as dismembering a pint of wine.”
He was now fair set upon his hobby, and I knew that he would not be drawn from the wine so long as he could fist a bottle. But I was minded to get to work, and be quit of the oaf, and so, says I, “Your reverence will perceive that the sands of my life run out, and the night is far spent. An’ it suit you, sure, I will engage for the remainder
224
