‘Staff!—­never mind your staff; the man’ll be gone!’

’But I can’t do nothing without my staff—­can I, William, and John, and Charles Jake?  No; for there’s the king’s royal crown a painted on en in yaller and gold, and the lion and the unicorn, so as when I raise en up and hit my prisoner, ’tis made a lawful blow thereby.  I wouldn’t ’tempt to take up a man without my staff—­no, not I. If I hadn’t the law to gie me courage, why, instead o’ my taking up him he might take up me!’

’Now, I’m a king’s man myself; and can give you authority enough for this,’ said the formidable officer in gray.  ’Now then, all of ye, be ready.  Have ye any lanterns?’

‘Yes—­have ye any lanterns?—­I demand it!’ said the constable.

‘And the rest of you able-bodied—­’

‘Able-bodied men—­yes—­the rest of ye!’ said the constable.

‘Have you some good stout staves and pitch-forks—­’

‘Staves and pitchforks—­in the name o’ the law!  And take ’em in yer hands and go in quest, and do as we in authority tell ye!’

Thus aroused, the men prepared to give chase.  The evidence was, indeed, though circumstantial, so convincing, that but little argument was needed to show the shepherd’s guests that after what they had seen it would look very much like connivance if they did not instantly pursue the unhappy third stranger, who could not as yet have gone more than a few hundred yards over such uneven country.

A shepherd is always well provided with lanterns; and, lighting these hastily, and with hurdle-staves in their hands, they poured out of the door, taking a direction along the crest of the hill, away from the town, the rain having fortunately a little abated.

Disturbed by the noise, or possibly by unpleasant dreams of her baptism, the child who had been christened began to cry heart-brokenly in the room overhead.  These notes of grief came down through the chinks of the floor to the ears of the women below, who jumped up one by one, and seemed glad of the excuse to ascend and comfort the baby, for the incidents of the last half-hour greatly oppressed them.  Thus in the space of two or three minutes the room on the ground-floor was deserted quite.

But it was not for long.  Hardly had the sound of footsteps died away when a man returned round the corner of the house from the direction the pursuers had taken.  Peeping in at the door, and seeing nobody there, he entered leisurely.  It was the stranger of the chimney-corner, who had gone out with the rest.  The motive of his return was shown by his helping himself to a cut piece of skimmer-cake that lay on a ledge beside where he had sat, and which he had apparently forgotten to take with him.  He also poured out half a cup more mead from the quantity that remained, ravenously eating and drinking these as he stood.  He had not finished when another figure came in just as quietly—­his friend in cinder-gray.