And a brawl there was, without any error, except of the men who hit their friends, and those who defended their enemies.  My partners in breakfast and beer-can swore that I was no prisoner, but the best and most loyal subject, and the finest-hearted fellow they had ever the luck to meet with.  Whereas the men from the linhay swore that I was a rebel miscreant; and have me they would, with a rope’s-end ready, in spite of every [violent language] who had got drunk at my expense, and been misled by my [strong word] lies.

While this fight was going on (and its mere occurrence shows, perhaps, that my conversation in those days was not entirely despicable—­else why should my new friends fight for me, when I had paid for the ale, and therefore won the wrong tense of gratitude?) it was in my power at any moment to take horse and go.  And this would have been my wisest plan, and a very great saving of money; but somehow I felt as if it would be a mean thing to slip off so.  Even while I was hesitating, and the men were breaking each other’s heads, a superior officer rode up, with his sword drawn, and his face on fire.

“What, my lambs, my lambs!” he cried, smiting with the flat of his sword; “is this how you waste my time and my purse, when you ought to be catching a hundred prisoners, worth ten pounds apiece to me?  Who is this young fellow we have here?  Speak up, sirrah; what art thou, and how much will thy good mother pay for thee?”

“My mother will pay naught for me,” I answered; while the lambs fell back, and glowered at one another:  “so please your worship, I am no rebel; but an honest farmer, and well-proved of loyalty.”

“Ha, ha; a farmer art thou?  Those fellows always pay the best.  Good farmer, come to yon barren tree; thou shalt make it fruitful.”

Colonel Kirke made a sign to his men, and before I could think of resistance, stout new ropes were flung around me; and with three men on either side I was led along very painfully.  And now I saw, and repented deeply of my careless folly, in stopping with those boon-companions, instead of being far away.  But the newness of their manners to me, and their mode of regarding the world (differing so much from mine own), as well as the flavour of their tobacco, had made me quite forget my duty to the farm and to myself.  Yet methought they would be tender to me, after all our speeches:  how then was I disappointed, when the men who had drunk my beer, drew on those grievous ropes, twice as hard as the men I had been at strife with!  Yet this may have been from no ill will; but simply that having fallen under suspicion of laxity, they were compelled, in self-defence, now to be over-zealous.