Shovelling a sufficient quantity of earth and lime into the pit to cover the bodies, Chowles and his companion departed, leaving Leonard alone.  He continued there a few moments longer, and was about to follow them, when a prolonged and piercing cry smote his ear; and, looking in the direction of the sound, he perceived a figure running with great swiftness towards the pit.  As no pursuers appeared, Leonard could scarcely doubt that this was one of the distracted persons he had heard of, who, in the frenzy produced by the intolerable anguish of their sores, would often rush to the plague-pit and bury themselves, and he therefore resolved, if possible, to prevent the fatal attempt.  Accordingly, he placed himself in the way of the runner, and endeavoured, with outstretched arms, to stop him.  But the latter dashed him aside with great violence, and hurrying to the brink of the pit, uttered a fearful cry, and exclaiming, “She is here! she is here!—­I shall find her amongst them!”—­flung himself into the abyss.

As soon as he could shake off the horror inspired by this dreadful action, Leonard ran to the pit, and, gazing into it, beheld him by the imperfect light struggling in the horrible mass in which he was partially immersed.  The frenzied man had now, however, begun to repent his rashness, and cried out for aid.  But this Leonard found it impossible to afford him; and, seeing he must speedily perish if left to himself, he ran after the dead-cart, and overtaking it just as it reached Moor-gate, informed Chowles what had happened, and begged him to return.

“There will be no use in helping him out,” rejoined Chowles, in a tone of indifference.  “We shall have to take him back in a couple of hours.  No, no—­let him remain where he is.  There is scarcely a night that some crazy being does not destroy himself in the same way.  We never concern ourselves about such persons except to strip them of their apparel.”

“Unfeeling wretch!” cried Leonard, unable to restrain his indignation.  “Give me your fork, and I will pull him out myself.”

Instead of surrendering the implement, Chowles flourished it over his head with the intention of striking the apprentice, but the latter nimbly avoided the blow, and snatching it from his grasp, ran back to the plague-pit.  He was followed by Chowles and the burier, who threatened him with loud oaths.  Regardless of their menaces, Leonard fixed the hook in the dress of the struggling man, and exerting all his strength, drew him out of the abyss.  He had just lodged him in safety on the brink when Chowles and his companion came up.

“Keep off!” cried Leonard, brandishing his fork as he spoke; “you shall neither commit robbery nor murder here.  If you will assist this unfortunate gentleman, I have no doubt you will be well rewarded.  If not, get hence, or advance at your peril.”

“Well,” returned Chowles, who began to fancy something might be made of the matter, “if you think we should be rewarded, we would convey the gentleman back to his own home provided we can ascertain where it is.  But I am afraid he may die on the way.”