and with the indifference of one who believes himself to
be alone. Presently the light appeared, and, as the bearer
approached, its rays fell on the forms of two men, retired
into the furthest extremity of the shed and crouching to
the earth as if in concealment, whom Sampson recognized
at a glance. He however took no notice of the circumstance
to the ostler, or even gave the slightest indication, by
look or movement, of what he had seen.

When the man had watered Silvertail, and put his corn in
the trough, he returned to the house, and Sampson, with
his arms folded across his chest, as his horse crunched
his food, listened attentively to catch whatever
conversation might ensue between the loiterers. Not a
word however was uttered, and soon after he saw them
emerge from their concealment--step cautiously behind
him--cross the yard towards the gate by which he had
entered--and then disappear altogether. During this
movement the old man had kept himself perfectly still,
so that there could be no suspicion that he had, in any
way, observed them. Nay, he even spoke once or twice
coaxingly to Silvertail, as if conscious only of the
presence of that animal, and in short conducted himself
in a manner well worthy of the cunning of a drunken man.
The reflections to which this incident gave rise, had
the effect of calling up a desperate fit of loyalty,
which he only awaited the termination of Silvertail's
hasty meal to put into immediate activity. Another shout
to the ostler, a second glass swallowed, the reckoning
paid, Silvertail bitted, and away went Sampson once more