The question only produced a roar of laughter at his ignorance,
during which the traveller turned to the publican and
asked:--

"Who is this hind?"

"'T is a new bond-servant o' Squire Meredith's, who I hearn
is no smouch on horses. Folks think he's a bloody-back who 's
took French leave."

"A deserter, heigh?" said the traveller, once more looking
at the man, who was now exchanging with the peddler the
three-shilling note for the razor. He waited till the trade had
been consummated, and then suddenly said aloud, in a sharp,
decisive way, "Attention! To the left--dress!

Fownes' body suddenly stiffened itself, his hands dropped to.
his sides, and his head turned quickly to the left. For a second
he held this position, then as suddenly relaxing himself,
he turned and eyed the giver of the order.

"So ho I my man. It seems ye have carried Brown Bess,"
said the traveller, giving the slang term for the musket.

Flushed in face, Fownes wheeled on the man hotly, while
the whole room waited his reply in silence. "Thou liest!" he
asserted.

"Thou varlet!" cried the man so insulted, flushing in turn,
as he sprang to his feet and caught up from the table a heavy