It was Joe Punchard’s voice.  If I had doubted it I should have been assured by a word that fell from his companion.

“Haul him to the watch house, Joe.  I’ll bring this fellow!”

“And the bag, Captain?” says Joe.

“Give it to this long fellow,” says the other, with a hard look at me.

And I found a large bag thrust into my arms, which Joe had been carrying and had dropped on the road at the encounter.

By this time a crowd had assembled, the good folk who had been craning their necks at the windows having swarmed out, now that the danger was past.  And as we thronged up the street a score of voices poured into the ears of the man Joe had called “captain” the full tale of the Mohocks’ doings.

I walked among them, shouldering the bag.  I perceived that Joe had not recognized me, which was not to be wondered at, seeing that when he last saw me I was a pale slip of a boy, whereas now I was a tall brawny youth with cheeks the color of a ripe russet.  And Joe himself was not quite the ’prentice lad I had known.  His legs indeed were no less bowed than of yore; nor was his hair less red; but the round face appeared rounder than ever by reason of a thick fringe of whiskers.  His body had filled out, and he moved with a rolling gait that caused him to usurp more than one man’s share of the narrow street.

When we had laid the two ruffians safely in ward, the captain said to Joe: 

“Now we’ll go visit Nelly, and ’gad, my limbs yearn for bed, Joe.  This fellow can still carry the bag; ’tis worth a groat.”

I grinned, and stepping alongside of Joe, whose head did not reach much above my elbow, I looked down on him, and said: 

“Don’t you know me, Joe?”

His start of surprise set me a-smiling.  His round face, somewhat more weatherbeaten than when I saw it last, expressed amazement, incredulity, and half a dozen more emotions in turn.

“Bless my soul!” he cried.  “Sure ’tis little Humphrey Bold, growed mountain high.  Give me the bag, sir; God forbid you should bear a load for Joe Punchard.”

“No, no,” I replied.  “I’ll earn my groat, now I’ve begun.  And right glad I am to see you, Joe; I had thought never to look on your face again.”

“And would not, but for my dear captain,” says he.

“Captain, ’tis Master Bold, the boy I told ye of.  ’Twas him I saved from the hands of Cyrus Vetch the last day I was at home, and sure ’tis a wonderful thing that the very night of homecoming we save him again.  Vetch needs another turn in the barrel, methinks.  I wonder if my old master has one that will hold his long carcass.

“But look ’ee, Master Humphrey, this be Captain Benbow, Mistress Nelly’s brother, and my dear master.  Oh, I’ve a deal to tell ’ee of, and a deal to hear, I warrant me.  Is my old mother yet alive, sir?”

“Yes, and hale and hearty, Joe, though she has well-nigh given up hope of the silks and satins you promised her.”