h it had been forty," cried Sam. "Such a party of
soused herrings I never did see--not a man among them bar poor Tom. But
us that are the servants on the road have all the risk and none of the
profit."

"And this brave fellow," asked Mr. Archer, very quietly, "this
Oglethorpe--how is he now?"

"Well, sir, with my respects, I take it he has a hole bang through him,"
said Sam. "The doctor hasn't been yet. He'd 'a' been bright and early if
it had been a passenger. But, doctor or no, I'll make a good guess that
Tom won't see to-morrow. He'll die on a Sunday, will poor Tom; and they
do say that's fortunate."

"Did Tom see him that did it?" asked Jonathan.

"Well, he saw him," replied Sam, "but not to swear by. Said he was a
very tall man, and very big, and had a 'ankerchief about his face, and a
very quick shot, and sat his horse like a thorough gentleman, as he is."

"A gentleman!" cried Nance. "The dirty knave!"

"Well, I calls a man like that a gentleman," returned the ostler;
"that's what I mean by a gentleman."

"You don't know much of them, then," said Nance. "A gentleman would
scorn to stoop to such a thing. I call my uncle a better gentleman than
any thief."

"And you would be right," said Mr. Archer.

"How many snuff-boxes did he get?" asked Jonathan.

"O, dang me if I know," said Sam; "I didn't take an inventory."

"I will go back with you, if you please," said Mr. Archer. "I should
like to see poor Oglethorpe. He has behaved well."

"At your service, sir," said Sam, jumping to his feet. "I dare to say a
gentleman like you would not forget a poor fellow like Tom--no, nor a
plain man like me, sir, that went without his sleep to nurse him. And
excuse me, sir," added Sam, "you won't forget about the letter neither?"

"Surely not," said Mr. Archer.

Oglethorpe lay in a low bed, one of several in a long garret of the inn.
The rain soaked in places through the roof and fell in minute drops;
there was but one small window; the beds were occupied by servants, the
air of the garret was both close and chilly. Mr. Archer's heart sank at
the threshold to see a man lying perhaps mortally hurt in so poor a
sick-room, and as he drew near the low bed he took his hat off. The
guard was a big, blowsy, innocent-looking soul with a thick lip and a
broad nose, comically turned up; his cheeks were crimson, and when Mr.
Archer laid a finger on his brow he found him burning with fever.

"I fear you suffer much," he said,