'I have had to do,' said Saxon, as we rode onwards, 'with many gentry of
this sort, with Albanian brigands, the banditti of Piedmont, the
Lanzknechte and Freiritter of the Rhine, Algerine picaroons, and other
such folk. Yet I cannot call to mind one who hath ever been able to
retire in his old age on a sufficient competence. It is but a
precarious trade, and must end sooner or later in a dance on nothing in
a tight cravat, with some kind friend tugging at your legs to ease you
of any breath that you might have left.'

'Nor does that end all,' I remarked.

'No. There is Tophet behind and the flames of hell. So our good
friends the parsons tell us. Well, if a man is to make no money in this
world, be hanged at the end of it, and finally burn for ever, he hath
assuredly wandered on to a thorny track. If, on the other hand, one
could always lay one's hands on a well-lined purse, as those rogues have
done to-night, one might be content to risk something in the world to
come.'

'But what can the well-filled purse do for them?' said I. 'What will
the few score pieces which these bloodthirsty wretches have filched from
this poor creature avail them when their own hour of death comes round?'

'True,' said Saxon dryly; 'they may, however, prove useful in the
meantime. This you say is Bishopstoke. What are the lights over
yonder?'

'They come, I think, from Bishop's Waltham,' I answered.

'We must press on, for I would fain be in Salisbury before it is broad