we darrna oppen owr mows fo' fear o' a gog."

"Naw, beleady! boh eyst oppen moine woide enuff," cried Ashbead; "an' if
a dozen o' yo chaps win join me, eyn try to set t' poor abbut free whon
they brinks him here."

"Ey'd as leef boide till to-morrow," said Ruchot o'Roaph's, uneasily.

"Eigh, thou'rt a timmersome teyke, os ey towd te efore," replied
Ashbead. "But whot dust theaw say, Hal o' Nabs?" he added, to the sturdy
hind who had recently spoken.

"Ey'n spill t' last drop o' meh blood i' t' owd abbut's keawse," replied
Hal o' Nabs. "We winna stond by, an see him hongt loike a dog. Abbut
Paslew to t' reskew, lads!"

"Eigh, Abbut Paslew to t' reskew!" responded all the others, except
Ruchot o' Roaph's.

"This must be prevented," muttered a voice near them. And immediately
afterwards a tall man quitted the group.

"Whoa wor it spoake?" cried Hal o' Nabs. "Oh, ey seen, that he-witch,
Nick Demdike."

"Nick Demdike here!" cried Ashbead, looking round in alarm. "Has he
owerheert us?"

"Loike enow," replied Hal o' Nabs. "But ey didna moind him efore."