'It may be the devil itself,' said Gideon, disengaging himself, 'but I am going to see it.'
'Don't be rash, Gid,' cried his uncle.
The barrister drew near to the sound, which was certainly of a portentous character. In quality, it appeared to blend the strains of the cow, the fog-horn, and the mosquito; and the startling manner of its enunciation added incalculably to its terrors. A dark object, not unlike the human form divine, appeared on the brink of the ditch.
'It's a man,' said Gideon, 'it's only a man; he seems to be asleep and snoring. 'Hullo,' he added, a moment after, 'there must be something wrong with him, he won't waken.'
Gideon produced his vestas, struck one, and by its light recognised the tow-head of Harker.
'This is the man,' said he, 'as drunk as Belial. I see the whole story'; and to his two companions, who had now ventured to rejoin him, he set forth a theory of the divorce between the carrier and his cart, which was not unlike the truth.
'Drunken brute!' said Uncle Ned, 'let's get him to a pump and give him what he deserves.'
'Not at all!' said Gideon. 'It is highly undesirable he should see us together; and really, do you know, I am very much obliged to him, for this is about the luckiest thing that could have possibly
