"Quick!" He dragged me into the shadow of the lane. "Hast a crown in
thy pocket?"

"Why?"

"Why, for a good turn. I'll fog these gentry for thee. Many thanks,
comrade," as I pull'd out the last few shillings of my pocket money.
"Now pitch thy sword over the wall here, and set thy foot on my hand.
'Tis a rich man's garden, t'other side, that I was meaning to
explore myself; but another night will serve."

"'Tis Master Carter's," said I; "and he's my kinsman."

"The devil!--but never mind, up with thee! Now mark a pretty piece
of play. 'Tis pity thou shouldst be across the wall and unable to
see."

He gave a great hoist: catching at the coping of the wall, I pull'd
myself up and sat astride of it.

"Good turf below--ta-ta, comrade!"

By now, the crowd was almost at the corner. Dropping about eight
feet on to good turf, as the fellow had said, I pick'd myself up and
listen'd.

"Which way went he?" call'd one, as they came near.

"Down the street!" "No: up the lane!'" "Hush!" "Up the lane, I'll be