So saying, he pulled Tom into a dark recess, and in a few minutes more there swaggered past about six or eight young roisterers—­ singing, swearing, joking, threatening—­more or less intoxicated every one of them, and boasting themselves loudly of the valiant deeds they could and would do.

They did not see the two figures in the archway.  Indeed, the greatest safety of the belated citizen was that these bullies were generally too drunk to be very observant, and that a person in hiding could generally escape notice.  After they had passed by, Cale continued his way quietly enough, following the noisy party at a safe distance, as they too seemed bound towards Snowe Hill.

They were approaching the top of the hill when a sudden sound of shrieking met their ears, mixed with the loud laughter and half-drunken shouts of the roisterers.  Tom caught his companion’s arm and pulled him along.

“That is a woman’s voice!” he cried quickly.  “She is crying for help.  Come!”

“Beshrew me if I ever again walk abroad with a peruke at night!” grumbled Cale, as he let himself be hurried along by the eager Tom.  “I am not a watchman.  Why should I risk my goods for every silly wench who should know better than to be abroad of a night alone?  Come, come, my young friend, my legs are not as long as yours; I shall have no wind for fighting if you drag me along at this pace!”

It was the urgency of the cries that spurred Tom to the top of his speed.  The laughter was loud and ceaseless, but the shrieks were becoming faint and stifled.  Tom’s blood was boiling.  He pictured to himself a foul murder done.  A few seconds before they reached the spot a new sound greeted their ears—­a sort of rattling, bounding noise—­which provoked another peal of uncontrollable laughter.

Then a voice was heard shouting: 

“The watch! the watch! or some fellows with swords!”

Immediately the whole band broke up and rushed helter-skelter in all directions.  Not that the bullies feared the watch one whit.  The watchmen were mostly poor, old, worn-out men, who could do little or nothing to impose order upon these young braggarts.  Indeed, they were so often maltreated themselves, that they just as often as not kept carefully away when cries were raised for help.  But, having had their fun, the roisterers were ready to disperse themselves; for some of the citizens would rise in a white heat of rage, and take law into their own hands, in which case it happened that the disturbers of the peace came off second best.  One of them had seen Tom’s tall figure and the sword in his hand as he ran beneath a lamp, and had fancied that some more determined rescue than that afforded by the watch was to be given.  So the band dispersed shouting and hooting; and Tom and Cale found them scattered ere they came up to them.

“But where is the woman?” asked Tom, looking round; “they have not surely carried her off?”