“You will be sorry to learn the fate of the poor piper,” he said.

“Why, what has happened to him?” cried Leonard.

“He is dead of the plague,” was the reply.

“What, so suddenly!” exclaimed the apprentice.  “You are jesting with me.”

“Alas! it is no jest,” rejoined the drawer, in a tone that convinced the apprentice of his sincerity.  “His entertainers quitted him about two hours ago, and in spite of my efforts to detain him, he left the house, and sat down on those steps.  Concluding he would fall asleep, I did not disturb him, and his dog kept careful watch over him.  I forgot all about him till a short time ago, when hearing the pest-cart pass, I went forth, and learnt that the drivers having found him dead, as they supposed, of the pestilence, had placed their forks under his belt, and thrown him upon the other dead bodies.”

“And where is the dog?” cried Leonard.

“She would not quit her master,” replied the drawer, “so the men threw her into the cart with him, saying, they would bury her in the plague-pit, as all dogs were ordered to be destroyed.”

“This must be prevented,” cried Leonard.  “Which way did the dead-cart go?”

“Towards Moorgate,” replied the drawer.

Leonard heard no more; but dashing through a narrow passage opposite the Conduit, passed Bartholomew-lane, and traversing Lothbury, soon reached Coleman-street and the old city gate, to which he had been directed.  Here he learnt that the dead-cart had passed through it about five minutes before, and he hurried on towards Finsbury Fields.  He had not proceeded far when he heard a sound as of a pipe at a distance, furiously played, and accompanied by the barking of a dog.  These sounds were followed by cries of alarm, and he presently perceived two persons running towards him, with a swiftness which only could be occasioned by terror.  One of them carried a lantern, and grasping his arm, the apprentice detained him.

“What is the matter?” he asked.

“The devil’s the matter,” replied the man—­“the piper’s ghost has appeared in that cart, and is playing his old tunes again.”

“Ay, it’s either his spirit, or he is come to life again,” observed the other man, stopping likewise.  “I tossed him into the cart myself, and will swear he was dead enough then.”

“You have committed a dreadful mistake,” cried Leonard.  “You have tossed a living man into the cart instead of a dead one.  Do you not hear those sounds?” And as he spoke, the notes of the pipe swelled to a louder strain than ever.

“I tell you it is the devil—­or a ghost,” replied the driver; “I will stay here no longer.”

“Lend me your lantern, and I will go to the cart,” rejoined Leonard.

“Take it,” replied the man; “but I caution you to stay where you are.  You may receive a shock you will never survive.”

Paying no attention to what was said, Leonard ran towards the cart, and found the piper seated upon a pile of dead bodies, most of them stripped of their covering, with Bell by his side, and playing away at a prodigious rate.