“To buy something over at Porlock, mother.  Perhaps I will tell you afterwards.  If I tell not it will be for your good, and for the sake of the children.”

“Bless the boy, one would think he was threescore years of age at least.  Give me a little kiss, you Jack, and you shall have the shilling.”

For I hated to kiss or be kissed in those days:  and so all honest boys must do, when God puts any strength in them.  But now I wanted the powder so much that I went and kissed mother very shyly, looking round the corner first, for Betty not to see me.

But mother gave me half a dozen, and only one shilling for all of them; and I could not find it in my heart to ask her for another, although I would have taken it.  In very quick time I ran away with the shilling in my pocket, and got Peggy out on the Porlock road without my mother knowing it.  For mother was frightened of that road now, as if all the trees were murderers, and would never let me go alone so much as a hundred yards on it.  And, to tell the truth, I was touched with fear for many years about it; and even now, when I ride at dark there, a man by a peat-rick makes me shiver, until I go and collar him.  But this time I was very bold, having John Fry’s blunderbuss, and keeping a sharp look-out wherever any lurking place was.  However, I saw only sheep and small red cattle, and the common deer of the forest, until I was nigh to Porlock town, and then rode straight to Mr. Pooke’s, at the sign of the Spit and Gridiron.

Mr. Pooke was asleep, as it happened, not having much to do that day; and so I fastened Peggy by the handle of a warming-pan, at which she had no better manners than to snort and blow her breath; and in I walked with a manful style, bearing John Fry’s blunderbuss.  Now Timothy Pooke was a peaceful man, glad to live without any enjoyment of mind at danger, and I was tall and large already as most lads of a riper age.  Mr. Pooke, as soon as he opened his eyes, dropped suddenly under the counting-board, and drew a great frying-pan over his head, as if the Doones were come to rob him, as their custom was, mostly after the fair-time.  It made me feel rather hot and queer to be taken for a robber; and yet methinks I was proud of it.

“Gadzooks, Master Pooke,” said I, having learned fine words at Tiverton; “do you suppose that I know not then the way to carry firearms?  An it were the old Spanish match-lock in the lieu of this good flint-engine, which may be borne ten miles or more and never once go off, scarcely couldst thou seem more scared.  I might point at thee muzzle on—­just so as I do now—­even for an hour or more, and like enough it would never shoot thee, unless I pulled the trigger hard, with a crock upon my finger; so you see; just so, Master Pooke, only a trifle harder.”

“God sake, John Ridd, God sake, dear boy,” cried Pooke, knowing me by this time; “don’t ’e, for good love now, don’t ’e show it to me, boy, as if I was to suck it.  Put ’un down, for good, now; and thee shall have the very best of all is in the shop.”