University of Virginia Library

10. CHAPTER X.

The Crow and Archer presented a busy scene on
the evening of the day referred to in the last chapter.
A report had been lately spread through the country
that the brig Olive Branch,—an occasional trader
between the province and the coasts of Holland and
England—had arrived at St. Mary's. In consequence
of this report there had been, during the last
two days, a considerable accession to the usual
guests of the inn, consisting of travellers both by
land and water. Several small sloops and other craft
had come into the harbour, and a half score inland
proprietors had journeyed from their farms on
horse-back, and taken up their quarters under the
snug roof of Garret Weasel. The swarthy and
gaunt watermen, arrayed in the close jackets and
wide kilt-like breeches and in the parti-coloured,
woollen caps peculiar to their vocation, were seen
mingling in the tap-room with the more substantial
cultivators of the soil. A few of the burghers of

St. Mary's were found in the same groups, drawn
thither by the love of company, the occasions, perchance,
of business, or the mere attraction of an
evening pot and pipe. The greater portion of this
assemblage were loitering between the latticed bar
of the common room, and the quay in front of the
house, which had somewhat of the occupation and
bustle of a little exchange. On a bench, in one corner
of the tap-room, sat, in a ragged, patched coat
resembling a pea-jacket, a saucy, vagrant-looking
fiddler, conspicuous for a red face and a playful light
blue eye; he wore a dingy, pliant white hat, fretted
at the rim, set daintily on one side of his head, from
beneath which his yellow locks depended over either
cheek, completely covering his ears; and all the
while scraped his begrimed and greasy instrument to
a brisk tune, beating time upon the floor with a
huge hob-nailed shoe. This personage had a vagabond
popularity in the province under the name of
Will of the Flats—a designation no less suited to his
musical commodity than to the locality of his ostensible
habitation, which was seated on the flats of
Patuxent, not above fifteen miles from St. Mary's,
where he was tenant of a few acres of barren marsh
and a lodge or cabin not much larger than a good
dog kennel.

Will's chief compeer and brother in taste and inclination,
though of more affluent fortune, was Dick
Pagan, or Driving Dick, according to his more
familiar appellation, the courier who had lately

brought the missives from James Town; a hard-favoured,
weather-beaten, sturdy, little bow-legged
fellow, in russet boots and long spurs, and wrapt in
a coarse drab doublet secured by a leathern belt,
with an immense brass buckle in front. Old Pamesack,
likewise, formed a part of the group, and might
have been observed seated on a settle at the door,
quietly smoking his pipe, as unmoved by the current
of idlers which ebbed and flowed past him, as
the old barnacled pier of the quay by the daily flux
and reflux of the river.

Such were the guests who now patronised the
thriving establishment of Master Weasel. These
good people were not only under the care, but also
under the command of our hostess the dame Dorothy,
who was a woman by no means apt to overlook
her prerogative. The dame having been on a visit
to a neighbour did not show herself in the tap-room
until near the close of the day; in the mean time
leaving her customers to the unchidden enjoyment of
their entertainment which was administered by Matty
Scamper,—a broad-chested, red-haired and indefatigable
damsel, who in her capacity of adjutant to
the hostess, had attained to great favour with the
patrons of the tavern by her imperturbable good nature
and ready answer to all calls of business. As
for Master Weasel, never did pleasure-loving monarch
more cheerfully surrender his kingdom to the
rule of his minister than he to whatever power for
the time was uppermost,—whether the dame herself,

or her occasional vicegerent Matty of the Saucepan.

Matty's rule, however, was now terminated by the
arrival of Mistress Weasel herself. It is fit I should
give my reader some perception of the exterior of
the hostess, as a woman of undoubted impression
and consideration with the towns-people. Being
now in her best attire which was evidently put on
with a careful eye to effect, I may take occasion
to say that one might suspect her of a consciousness
of some deficiency of height, as well as of
an undue breadth of figure, both which imperfections
she had studied to conceal. She wore a
high conical hat of green silk garnished with a
band of pink ribbon which was set on by indentation
or teethwise, and gathered in front into a
spirited cluster of knots. Her jacket, with long tight
sleeves, was also of green silk, adapted closely to
her shape, now brought into its smallest compass by
the aid of stays, and was trimmed in the same manner
as the hat. A full scarlet petticoat reached within
a span of her ankles and disclosed a buxom, well-formed
leg in brown stocking with flashy clocks of
thickly embossed crimson, and a foot, of which the
owner had reason to be proud, neatly pinched into a
green shoe with a tottering high heel. Her black
hair hung in plaits down her back; and her countenance,—distinguished
by a dark waggish eye, a clear
complexion, and a turned-up nose, to which might
be added a neck both fat and fair, half concealed by
a loose kerchief,—radiated with an expression partly

wicked and partly charitable, but in every lineament
denoting determination and constancy of purpose.
This air of careless boldness was not a little heightened
by the absence of all defence to her brow from
the narrow rim of the hat and the height at which it
was elevated above her features.

The din of the tap-room was hushed into momentary
silence as soon as this notable figure appeared
on the threshold.

“Heaven help these thirsty, roystering men!” she
exclaimed, as she paused an instant at the door and
surveyed the group within—“On my conscience,
they are still at it as greedily as if they had just
come out of a dry lent! From sunrise till noon, and
from noon till night it is all the same—drink, drink,
drink. Have ye news of Master Cocklescraft?—I
would that the Olive Branch were come and gone,
that I might sit under a quiet roof again!—there is
nothing but riot and reeling from the time the skipper
is expected in the port until he leaves it.”

“True enough, jolly queen!” said Ralph Haywood,
a young inland planter, taking the hand of the merry
landlady as she struggled by him on her way to the
bar—“what the devil, in good earnest, has become
of Cocklescraft? This is the second day we have
waited for him. I half suspect you, mistress, of a
trick to gather good fellows about you, by setting up
a false report of the Olive Branch.”

“Thou art a lying varlet, Ralph,” quickly responded
the dame: “you yourself came jogging
hither with the story that Cocklescraft was seen two

days ago, beating off the Rappahannock.—I play a
trick on you, truly! You must think I have need of
custom, to bring in a troop of swilling bumpkins from
the country who would eat and drink out the character
of any reputable house in the hundred, without
so much as one doit of profit. You have my free
leave to tramp it back again to Providence, Ralph
Haywood, whenever you have a mind.”

“Nay, now you quarrel with an old friend, Mistress
Dorothy.”

“Take thy hand off my shoulder, Ralph, thou
coaxing villain!—Ha, ha, I warrant you get naught
but vinegar from me, for your treacle.—But come—
thou art a good child, and shalt have of the best in
this house:—I would only warn you to call for it
mannerly, Master Ralph.”

“Our dame is a woman of mettle,” said another
of the company, as the landlady escaped from the
planter and took her station behind the bar.

“What has become of that man Weasel?” she inquired
somewhat petulantly. “The man I am sure
has been abroad ever since I left the house! He is
of no more value than a cracked pot;—he would see
me work myself as thin as a broom handle before he
would think of turning himself round.”

“Garret is now upon the quay,” replied one of the
customers;—“I saw him but a moment since with
Arnold the Ranger.”

“With some idle stroller,—you may be sure of
that!” interrupted the hostess:—“never at his place,
if the whole house should go dry as Cuthbert's spring

at midsummer. Call him to me, if you please, Master
Shortgrass.—Michael Curtis, that wench Matty
Scamper has something to do besides listen to your
claverings! Matty, begone to the kitchen; these
country cattle will want their suppers presently.—
Oh, Willy, Willy o'the Flats!—for the sake of one's
ears, in mercy, stop that everlasting twangling of
your old crowd!—It would disgrace the patience
of any Christian woman in the world to abide in the
midst of all this uproar!—Nay then, come forward,
old crony—I would not offend thee,” she said in a
milder tone to the fiddler. “Here is a cup of ale
for thee, and Matty will give you your supper to-night.
I have danced too often to thy music to deny
thee a comfort;—so, drink as you will! but pray you
rest your elbow for a while.”

“And there is a shilling down on the nail,” said
Driving Dick, as he and the crowder came together
to the bar at the summons of the landlady:
“when that is drunk out, dame, give me a space
of warning, that I may resolve whether we shall
go another shot.”

“Master Shortgrass told me you had need of me,”
said Garret Weasel, as he now entered the door;—
“what wouldst with me, wife Dorothy?”

“Get you gone!” replied the wife—“thou art ever
in the way. I warrant your head is always thrust
in place when it is not wanted! If you had been at
your duty an hour ago, your service might have been
useful.”

“I can but return to the quay,” said Garret, at the
same time beginning to retrace his steps.

“Bide thee!” exclaimed the dame in a shrill voice
—“I have occasion for you. Go to the cellar and
bring up another stoop of hollands; these salt water
fish have no relish for ale—they must deal in the
strong:—nothing but hollands or brandy for them.”

The obedient husband took the key of the cellar
and went on the duty assigned him.

At this moment a door communicating with an adjoining
apartment was thrown ajar and the head of
Captain Dauntrees protruded into the tap-room.

“Mistress Dorothy,” he said—“at your leisure,
pray step this way.”

The dame tarried no longer than was necessary to
complete a measure she was filling for a customer,
and then went into the room to which she had been
summoned. This was a little parlour, where the
Captain of musqueteers had been regaling himself
for the last hour over a jorum of ale, in solitary rumination.
An open window gave to his view the
full expanse of the river, now glowing with the rich
reflexions of sunset; and a balmy October breeze
played through the apartment and refreshed without
chilling the frame of the comfortable Captain. He
was seated near the window in a large easy chair
when the hostess entered.

“Welcome dame,” he said, without rising from his
seat, at the same time offering his hand, which was
readily accepted by the landlady.—“By St. Gregory
and St. Michael both, a more buxom and tidy piece

of flesh and blood hath never sailed between the two
headlands of Potomac, than thou art! You are for
a junketing, Mistress Dorothy; you are tricked out
like a queen this evening! I have never seen thee
in thy new suit before. Thou art as gay as a marygold:
and I wear thy colours, thou laughing mother
of mischief! Green is the livery of thy true knight.
Has your goodman, honest Garret, come home yet,
dame?”

“What would you with my husband, Master Baldpate?
There is no good in the wind when you throw
yourself into the big chair of this parlour.”

“In truth, dame, I only came to make a short
night of it with you and your worthy spouse. Do
not show your white teeth at me, hussy,—you are
too old to bite. Tell Matty to spread supper for
me in this parlour. Arnold and Pamesack will partake
with me; and if the veritable and most authentic
head of this house—I mean yourself, mistress—have
no need of Garret, I would entreat to have him in
company. By the hand of thy soldier, Mistress Dorothy!
I am glad to see you thrive so in your calling.
You will spare me Garret, dame? Come, I know
you have not learnt how to refuse me a boon.”

“You are a saucy Jack, Master Captain,” replied
the dame. “I know you of old: you would have a
rouse with that thriftless babe my husband. You
sent him reeling home only last night. How can you
look me in the face, knowing him, as you do, for a
most shallow vessel, Captain Dauntrees?”

“Fie on thee, dame! You disgrace your own

flesh and blood by such speech. Did you not choose
him for his qualities?—ay, and with all circumspection,
as a woman of experience. You had two husbands
before Garret, and when you took him for a
third, it was not in ignorance of the sex. Look thee
in the face! I dare,—yea, and at thy whole configuration.
Faith, you wear most bravely, Mistress
Weasel! Stand apart, and let me survey: turn thy
shoulders round,” he added, as by a sleight he twirled
the dame upon her heel so as to bring her back to his
view—“thou art a woman of ten thousand, and I
envy Garret such store of womanly wealth.”

“If Garret were the man I took him for, Master
Captain,” said the dame with a saucy smile, “you
would have borne a broken head long since. But he
has his virtues, such as they are,—though they may
lie in an egg-shell: and Garret has his frailties too,
like other men: alack, there is no denying it!”

“Frailties, forsooth! Which of us has not, dame?
Garret is an honest man;—somewhat old—a shade
or so: yet it is but a shade. For my sake, pretty
hostess, you will allow him to sup with us? Speak
it kindly, sweetheart—good, old Garret's jolly, young
wife!”

“Thou wheedling devil!” said the landlady; “Garret
is no older than thou art. But, truly, I may say
he is of little account in the tap-room; so, he shall
come to you, Captain. But, look you, he is weak,
and must not be over-charged.”

“He shall not, mistress—you have a soldier's word
for that. I could have sworn you would not deny

me. Hark you, dame,—bring thine ear to my lips;
—a word in seeret.”

The hostess bent her head down, as the Captain
desired, when he said in a half whisper, “Send me a
flask of the best,—you understand? And there's for
thy pains!” he added, as he saluted her cheek with a
kiss.

“And there's for thy impudence, saucy Captain!”
retorted the spirited landlady as she bestowed the
palm of her hand on the side of his head and fled out
of the apartment.

Dauntrees sprang from his chair and chased the
retreating dame into the midst of the crowd of the
tap-room, by whose aid she was enabled to make her
escape. Here he encountered Garret Weasel, with
whom he went forth in quest of Arnold and the Indian,
who were to be his guests at supper.

In the course of the next half hour the Captain and
his three comrades were assembled in the little parlour
around the table, discussing their evening meal.
When this was over, Matty was ordered to clear the
board and to place a bottle of wine and glasses before
the party, and then to leave the room.

“You must know, Garret,” said Dauntrees when
the serving-maid had retired, “that we go to-night
to visit the Wizard's Chapel by his Lordship's order;
and as I would have stout fellows with me, I have
come down here on purpose to take you along.”

“Heaven bless us, Master Jasper Dauntrees!” exclaimed
Garret, somewhat confounded with this sudden
appeal to his valour, which was not of that

prompt complexion to stand so instant a demand,
and yet which the publican was never willing to
have doubted—“truly there be three of you, and it
might mar the matter to have too many on so secret
an outgoing”—

“Tush, man,—that has been considered. His Lordship
especially looks to your going: you cannot
choose but go.”

“But my wife, Captain Dauntrees”—

“Leave that to me,” said the Captain; “I will manage
it as handsomely as the taking of Troy. Worthy
Garret, say naught against it—you must go, and
take with you a few bottles of Canary and a good
luncheon of provender in the basket. You shall be
our commissary. I came on set purpose to procure
the assistance of your experience, and store of comfortable
sustenance. Get the bottles, Garret,—his
Lordship pays the scot to-night.”

“I should have my nag,” said Garret, “and the
dame keeps the key of the stable, and will in no wise
consent to let me have it. She would suspect us for
a rouse if I but asked the key.”

“I will engage for that, good Weasel,” said Dauntrees:
“I will cozen the dame with some special invention
which shall put her to giving the key of her
own motion: she shall be coaxed with a device that
shall make all sure—only say you will obey his Lordship's
earnest desire.”

“It is a notable piece of service,” said the innkeeper,
meditating over the subject, and tickled
with the importance which was ascribed to his cooperation—“and

will win thanks from the whole
province. His Lordship did wisely to give it in charge
to valiant men.”

“In faith did he,” replied the Captain; “and it
will be the finishing stroke of thy fortunes. You will
be a man of mark for ever after.”

“I am a man to be looked to in a strait, Captain,”
said Weasel, growing valorous with the thought. “I
saw by his Lordship's eye yesternight that he was
much moved by what I told him. I have had a
wrestle with devils before now.”

Arnold smiled and cast his eye towards the Indian,
who, immediately after supper, had quitted the table
and taken a seat in the window.

“There be hot devils and cold devils,” said he, “and
he that wrestles with them must have a hand that
will hold fire as well as ice: that is true, Pamesack?”

“Pamesack has no dealing with the white man's
devil,” replied the Indian; “he has enough to do with
his own.”

“Drink some wine, old blade,” said Dauntrees as
he presented a cup to Pamesack; “the Knife must
be sharp to-night—this will whet his edge. We shall
have need of your woodcraft.”

The Indian merely sipped the wine, as he replied,
“Pamesack knows the broad path and the narrow
both. He can lead you to the Black House day or
night.”

“Brandy is more natural to his throat than this
thin drink,” said Weasel, who forthwith left the

room and returned with a measure of the stronger
liquor. When this was presented Pamesack swallowed
it at a draught, and with something approaching
a laugh, he said, “It is the white man's devil—
but the Indian does not fear him.”

“Now, Garret,” said Dauntrees, “we have no time
to lose. Make ready your basket and bottles, and lay
them at the foot of the cedar below the bank, near
the Town House steps; then hasten back to the parlour.
I will put the dame to sending you on an
errand which may be done only on horseback;—you
will mount with the basket and make speedy way to
the Fort. Tell Nicholas Verbrack, the lieutenant,
that I shall be there in reasonable time. We must
set forth by ten; it may take us three hours to reach
St. Jerome's.”

“My heart is big enough,” said Weasel, once more
beginning to waver, “for any venture; but, in truth,
I fear the dame. It will be a livelong night carouse,
and she is mortal against that. What will she say in
the morning?”

“What can she say, when all is come and gone,
but, perchance, that thou wert rash and hot-headed?
That will do you no harm: but an hour ago she
swore to me that you were getting old—and sighed
too, as if she believed her words.”

“Old, did she say? Ho, mistress, I will show you
my infirmities! A fig for her scruples! the hey-day
blood yerks yet, Master Captain. I will go
with thee, comrades: I will follow you to any goblin's
chapel twixt St. Mary's and Christina.”

“Well said, brave vintner!” exclaimed the Captain;
“now stir thee! And when you come back to
the parlour, Master Weasel, you shall find the dame
here. Watch my eye and take my hint, so that you
play into my hand when need shall be. I will get the
nag out of the stable if he were covered with bells.
Away for the provender!”

The publican went about his preparations, and had
no sooner left the room than the Captain called the
landlady, who at his invitation showed herself at the
door.

“Come in, sweetheart. Good Mistress Daffodil,”
he said, “I called you that you may lend us your
help to laugh: since your rufflers are dispersed, your
smokers obnubilated in their own clouds, your tipplers
strewed upon the benches, and nothing more
left for you to do in the tap-room, we would have
your worshipful and witty company here in the parlour.
So, come in, my princess of pleasant thoughts,
and make us merry with thy fancies.”

“There is nothing but clinking of cans and swaggering
speeches where you are, Captain Dauntrees,”
said the hostess. “An honest woman had best be
little seen in your company. It is a wonder you
ever got out of the Low Countries, where, what with
drinking with boors and quarrelling with belted bullies,
your three years' service was enough to put an
end to a thousand fellows of your humour.”

“There's destiny in it, dame. I was born to be
the delight of your eyes. It was found in my horoscope,
when my nativity was cast, that a certain

jolly mistress of a most-especially-to-be-commended
inn, situate upon a delectable point of land in the New
World, was to be greatly indebted to me, first, for the
good fame of her wines amongst worshipful people;
and, secondly, for the sufficient and decent praise of
her beauty. So was it read to my mother by the
wise astrologer. And then, dame, you slander the
virtue of the Low Countries. Look at Arnold there:
is there a more temperate, orderly, well-behaved
liegeman in the world than the ranger? And did he
not bring his sobriety with him from the very bosom
of the land you rail against?”

“If Arnold de la Grange is not all that you say of
him,” replied the hostess, “it is because he has lost
some share of his good quality by consorting with
you, Captain. Besides, Arnold has never been hackneyed
in the wars.”

“A Dutch head,” said Arnold, laughing, “is not
easily made to spin. In the Old World men can
drink more than in the New: a Friesland fog is an
excellent shaving horn, mistress!”

“Heaven help the men of the Old World, if they
drink more than they do in our province!” exclaimed
Mistress Weasel. “Look in the tap-room, and you
may see the end of a day's work in at least ten great
loons. One half are sound asleep, and the other of
so dim sight that neither can see his neighbour.”

“The better reason then, Mistress Dorothy,” replied
Dauntrees, “why you, a reputable woman,
should leave such topers, and keep company with
sober, waking, discreet friends. That cap becomes

thee, mistress. I never saw you in so dainty a head-gear.
I honour it as a covering altogether worthy
of thy comeliness. Faith, it has been a rich piece of
merchandise to me! Upon an outlay of fourteen
shillings which I paid for it, as a Michaelmas present
to my excellent hostess, I have got in return, by way
of profit, full thirteen bottles of Garret's choicest
Canary, on my wager. Garret was obstinate, and
would face me out with it that you wore it to church
last Sunday, when I knew that you went only in your
hood that day:—he has never an eye to look on thee,
dame, as he ought,—so he must needs put it to a
wager. Well, as this is the first day thou hast ever
gone abroad in it, here I drink to thee and thy cap,
upon my knees—Success to its travels, and joy to the
merry eye that sparkles below it! Come, Arnold,
drink to that, and get Pamesack another glass of
aqua vitæ:—top off to the hostess, comrades!”

The toast was drunk, and at this moment Garret
Weasel returned to the room. A sign from him informed
the Captain that the preparation he had been
despatched to make was accomplished.

“How looks the night, Garret?” inquired Dauntrees;
“when have we the moon?”

“It is a clear starlight and calm,” replied the publican;
“the moon will not show herself till near
morning.”

“Have you heard the news, mistress?” inquired
the Captain, with an expression of some eagerness;
“there is pleasant matter current, concerning the

mercer's wife at the Blue Triangle. But you must
have heard it before this?”

“No, truly, not I,” replied the hostess.

“Indeed!” said Dauntrees, “then there's a month's
amusement for you. You owe the sly jade a grudge,
mistress.”

“In faith I do,” said the dame, smiling, “and would
gladly pay it.”

“You may pay it off with usury now,” added the
Captain, “with no more trouble than telling the
story. It is a rare jest, and will not die quickly.”

“I pray you tell it to me, good Captain—give me
all of it,” exclaimed the dame, eagerly.

“Peregrine Cadger, the mercer, you know,” said
the Captain—“but it is a long story, and will take
time to rehearse it. Garret, how comes it that you
did not tell this matter to your wife, as I charged you
to do?” he inquired, with a wink at the publican.

“I resolved to tell it to her,” said Weasel, “but, I
know not how, it ran out of my mind—the day being
a busy one—”

“A busy day to thee!” exclaimed the spouse.
“Thou, who hast no more to do than a stray in the
pound, what are you fit for, if it be not to do as you
are commanded? But go on, Captain; the story
would only be marred by Garret's telling—go on
yourself—I am impatient to hear it.”

“I pray you, what o'clock is it, mistress?” asked
the Captain.

“It is only near nine. It matters not for the hour
—go on.”

“Nine!” exclaimed Dauntress; “truly, dame, I
must leave the story for Master Garret. Nine, said
you? By my sword, I have overstaid my time!
I have business with the Lord Proprietary before he
goes to his bed. There are papers at the Fort which
should have been delivered to his Lordship before
this.”

“Nay, Captain,” said the hostess, “if it be but the
delivery of a pacquet, it may be done by some other
hand. There is Driving Dick in the tap-room: he
shall do your bidding in the matter. Do not let so
light a business as that take you away.”

“To-morrow, dame, and I will tell you the tale.”

“To-night, Captain—to-night.”

“Truly, I must go; the papers should be delivered
by a trusty hand—I may not leave it to an ordinary
messenger. Now if Garret—but I will ask no such
service from the good man at this time of night; it
is a long way. No, no, I must do my own errand.”

“There is no reason upon earth,” said the landlady,
“why Garret should not do it: it is but a step
to the Fort and back.”

“I can take my nag and ride there in twenty
minutes,” said Garret. “I warrant you his Lordship
will think the message wisely entrusted to me.”

“Then get you gone, without parley,” exclaimed
the dame.

“The key of the stable, wife,” said Garret.

“If you will go, Master Garret,” said Dauntrees
—“and it is very obliging of you—do it quickly.
Tell Nicholas Verbrack to look in my scritoire;

he will find the pacquet addressed to his Lordship.
Take it, and see it safely put into his Lordship's
hands. Say to Nicholas, moreover, that I will be at
the Fort before ten to-night. You comprehend?”

“I comprehend,” replied Garret, as his wife gave
him the key of the stable, and he departed from the
room.

“Now, Captain.”

“Well, mistress: you must know that Peregrine
Cadger, the mercer, who in the main is a discreet
man—”

“Yes.”

“A discreet man—I mean, bating some follies
which you wot of; for this trading and trafficking
naturally begets foresight. A man has so much to
do with the world in that vocation, and the world,
Mistress Dorothy, is inclined by temper to be somewhat
knavish, so that they who have much to do with
it learn cautions which other folks do not. Now, in
our calling of soldiership, caution is a sneaking virtue
which we soon send to the devil; and thereby
you may see how it is that we are more honest than
other people. Caution and honesty do not much
consort together.”

“But of the mercer's wife, Captain.”

“Ay, the mercer's wife—I shall come to her presently.
Well, Peregrine, as you have often seen, is a
shade or so jealous of that fussock, his wife, who
looks, when she is tricked out in her new russet grogram
cloak, more like a brown haycock in motion
than a living woman.”

“Yes,” interrupted the dame, laughing, “and with
a sunburnt top. Her red hair on her shoulders is no
better, I trow.”

“Her husband, who at best is but a cotquean—
one of those fellows who has a dastardly fear of his
wife, which, you know, Mistress Dorothy, truly
makes both man and wife to be laughed at. A husband
should have his own way, and follow his humour,
no matter whether the dame rails or not. You
agree with me in this, Mistress Weasel?”

“In part, Captain. I am not for stinting a husband
in his lawful walks; but the wife should have an eye
to his ways: she may counsel him.”

“Oh, in reason, I grant; but she should not chide
him, I mean, nor look too narrowly into his hours,
that's all. Now Peregrine's dame hath a free foot,
and the mercer himself somewhat of a sulky brow.
Well, Halfpenny, the chapman, who is a mad wag
for mischief, and who is withal a sure customer of
the mercer's in small wares, comes yesternight to
Peregrine Cadger's house, bringing with him worshipful
Master Lawrence Hay, the Viewer.”

At this moment the sound of horse's feet from the
court-yard showed that Garret Weasel had set forth
on his ride.

“Arnold, I am keeping you waiting,” said Dauntrees.
“Fill up another cup for yourself and Pamesack,
and go your ways. Stay not for me, friends;
or if it pleases you, wait for me in the tap-room. I
will be ready in a brief space.”

The ranger and the Indian, after swallowing another
glass, withdrew.

“The Viewer,” continued Dauntrees, “is a handsome
man,—and a merry man on occasion, too. I
had heard it whispered before—but not liking to
raise a scandal upon a neighbour, I kept my thoughts
to myself—that the mercer's wife had rather a warm
side for the Viewer. But be that as it may: there
was the most laughable prank played on the mercer
by Halfpenny and the Viewer together, last night,
that ever was heard of. It was thus: they had a
game at Hoodman-blind, and when it fell to Lawrence
to be the seeker, somehow the fat termagant
was caught in his arms, and so the hood next came
to her. Well, she was blindfolded; and there was
an agreement all round that no one should speak a
word.”

“Ay, I understand—I see it,” said the hostess,
eagerly drawing her chair nearer to the Captain.

“No, you would never guess,” replied Dauntrees,
“if you cudgelled your brains from now till Christmas.
But I can show you, Mistress Dorothy, better
by the acting of the scene. Here, get down on your
knees, and let me put your kerchief over your eyes.”

“What can that signify?” inquired the dame.

“Do it, mistress—you will laugh at the explosion.
Give me the handkerchief. Down, dame, upon your
marrow bones:—it is an excellent jest and worth the
learning.”

The landlady dropped upon her knees, and the
Captain secured the bandage round her eyes.

“How many fingers, dame?” he asked, holding
his hand before her face.

“Never a finger can I see, Captain.”

“It is well. Now stand up—forth and away! That
was the word given by the Viewer. Turn, Mistress
Dorothy, and grope through the room. Oh, you shall
laugh at this roundly. Grope, grope, dame.”

The obedient and marvelling landlady began to
grope through the apartment, and Dauntrees, quietly
opening the door, stole off to the tap-room, where
being joined by his comrades, they hied with all
speed towards the Fort, leaving the credulous dame
floundering after a jest, at least until they got beyond
the hail of her voice.