"Look at the nedders!" cried Smiler. "Aren't stung him, have they?"

"Nay," cried Joey, hanging back, "that arn't all. 'Tarn't a bottle he's
got; it's a pistol!"

Two of the men turned as if to run away, but at that moment another
bucket-bearer came up, and there was a shout from up by the fire to know
why the spraying had stopped.

"Hi!--all on yer! Coome here!" yelled Smiler.

"What's he been shootin'?" cried one of the men who had turned to go.

"Hissen," growled Joey, with a horrified look. "He's a dead un, lads,
and been here for days."

Mastering the feeling of shrinking which had come over him, Joey went
down upon one knee, amidst the awful silence which prevailed, and
stretched forth a hand to draw the figure out into a patch of sunlight,
but a shout in chorus from his companions made him snatch back his hand
with a violent start.

"Yah!--don't touch him," they all cried.

"Why?--poor lad," protested Joey. "We can't leave him here!"

"Mustn't touch 'im till there's been a inkwess," said Smiler, excitedly.

"I don't keer for no inkwesses," grumbled Joey; "I shall want to come
here directly to wash my hops."

"What's the matter?" cried the first of several men who came down the
narrow alley. "Ingin busted?"

"Nay; look ye here," cried Smiler, excitedly, and there was a low,
suppressed exclamation from the group that crowded up.

"Better get a gate and carry him out," said one.

"Couldn't get a gate down here," said another.

"And yer mustn't touch 'im till there's been a inkwess," cried Smiler.

"Is he dead?" said one of the new-comers.

"Ay," said one of the first four. "We sin the nedders come away from
him. Stinged to death."

"Nay, he's not bitten," cried Joey. "Here's his little pistol. Why,
he's one o' they chaps as blows brass things in the band."

As he spoke, the man took the rusty pistol from the tight fingers which
clutched it, and then uttered a cry.

"What's the matter?"

"His hand arn't cold," cried Joey, and, quickly turning the figure right
over into the sunshine, he gazed down excitedly, and pointed at a great
red stain on the breast and side of the scarlet tunic, hidden until
then, and dry now and dark.

"But he's quite dead, arn't he?" said Smiler.

"Nay, he's not dead. You can feel his heart beat right up into his
throat. Come and take hold of his legs, two on you, and Smiler and me
'll carry this end."

"Where to?" asked one of the men, who seized