“It may be as you believe, Guy; but, as I saw nothing in his manner or countenance affording ground for such a belief, I can not but conceive it to have been because of the activity of your suspicions that you discovered his.  I did not perceive that he looked upon you with more curiosity than upon any other at table; though, if he had done so, I should by no means have been disposed to wonder; for at this time, and since your face has been so tightly bandaged, you have a most villanously attractive visage.  It carries with it, though you do regard it with so much favor, a full and satisfactory reason for observance, without rendering necessary any reference to any more serious matter than itself.  On the road, I take it, he saw quite too little of either of us to be able well to determine what was what, or who was who, either then or now.  The passage was dark, our disguises good, and the long hair and monstrous whiskers which you wore did the rest.  I have no apprehensions, and see not that you need have any.”

“I would not rest in this confidence—­let us make sure that if he knows anything he shall say nothing,” was the significant reply of Rivers.

“Guy, you are too fierce and furious.  When there’s a necessity, do you see, for using teeth, you know me to be always ready; but I will not be for ever at this sort of work.  If I were to let you have your way you’d bring the whole country down upon us.  There will be time enough when we see a reason for it to tie up this young man’s tongue.”

“I see—­I see!—­you are ever thus—­ever risking our chance upon contingencies when you might build strongly upon certainties.  You are perpetually trying the strength of the rope, when a like trouble would render it a sure hold-fast.  Rather than have the possibility of this thing being blabbed, I would—­”

“Hush—­hark!” said Munro, placing his hand upon the arm of his companion, and drawing him deeper into the copse, at the moment that Forrester, who had just left the chamber of Ralph, emerged from the tavern into the open air.  The outlaw had not placed himself within the shadow of the trees in time sufficient to escape the searching gaze of the woodman, who, seeing the movement and only seeing one person, leaped nimbly forward with a light footstep, speaking thus as he approached: 

“Hello! there—­who’s that—­the pedler, sure.  Have at you, Bunce!” seizing as he spoke the arm of the retreating figure, who briefly and sternly addressed him as follows:—­

“It is well, Mr. Forrester, that he you have taken in hand is almost as quiet in temper as the pedler you mistake him for else your position might prove uncomfortable.  Take your fingers from my arm, if you please.”

“Oh, it’s you, Guy Rivers—­and you here too, Munro, making love to one another, I reckon, for want of better stuff.  Well, who’d have thought to find you two squatting here in the bushes!  Would you believe it now, I took you for the Yankee—­not meaning any offence though.”