nel, or something, it comes natural to captain or colonel all, and is not often amiss. No offence, squire—it's use only, and I mean no harm."
"Enough, enough! good Master Landlord! Least said, soonest mended. Shall we soon have supper?"
The ready publican turned to the inner door of the apartment and put the same question to his daughter, the fair Bella; then, without waiting for her reply, informed the inquirer that many minutes would not elapse before it would be on table.
"Six o'clock's the time of day for supper, squire—six for supper—one for dinner—eight for breakfast—punctual to the stroke, and no waiting. Heh! what's that you say, Master Dickenson?—what's that about Frampton?" said old Humphries, turning to one of the villagers who had just entered the apartment. The person so addressed came forward; a thin-jawed, sallow countryman, whose eyes were big with the intelligence he brought, and who seemed anxious that a well dressed and goodly-looking stranger, like Singleton, should have the benefit of his burden.
"Why, gentlemen, the matter with Frampton's strange enough. You all know he's been out several days, close in the swamp. He had a fight, stranger, you see, with one of Huck's dragoons; and he licked the dragoon, for all the world, as if he'd a licked him out of his skin. Now the dragoon's a strong fellow enough; but Frampton's a horse, and if ever he mounts you the game is up, for there's no stopping him when he gets his hand in. So, as I tell you, the dragoon stood a mighty slim chance. He first brought him down with a back-handed wipe, that came over his cheek for all the world like the slap of a water-wheel—"
"Yes, yes, we all heard that; but what was it all about, Dickenson?—we don't know that, yet," cried one of the group which had now formed around the speaker.
"Why, that's soon told. The dragoon went to Frampton's house when he was in the swamp, and made free with what he wanted. Big Barney, his eldest son, went off in the meanwhile to his daddy, and off he came full tilt, with Lance, his youngest lad along with him. You know Lance, or Lancelot, a smart chap of sixteen: you've seed him often enough."
"Yes, yes, we know him."
