even irritated by them, as by something which threw hindrances in
the way of the only dramatic entertainment the High Peak was likely
to afford him, had learnt at last to join in them with relish. Many
meetings with 'Lias on the moorside, which the old seer made alive
for both of them--the plundering of 'Lias's books, whence he had
drawn the brown 'Josephus' in his pocket--these had done more
than anything else to stock the boy's head with its present
strange jumble of knowledge and ideas. _Knowledge_, indeed, it
scarcely was, but rather the materials for a certain kind of
excitement.

'Wal, Davy, did yo hear that?' said 'Lias, presently, looking round
on the boy with a doubtful countenance, after Cromwell had given an
unctuous and highly Biblical account of the slaughter at Drogheda
and its reasons.

'How mony did lie say he killed at that place?' asked the boy
sharply.

'Thoosands,' said Dawson, solemnly. 'Theer was naw mercy asked nor
gi'en. And those wha escaped knockin on t' yead were aw sold as
slaves--every mon jock o' them!'

A strong light of anger showed itself in David's face.

'Then he wor a cantin murderer! Yo mun tell him so! If I'd my way,
he'd hang for 't!'

'Eh, laddie, they were nowt but rebels an Papists,' said the old
man, complacently.