emen! Your humble servant, gentlemen. No
offence to YOU either, I hope. Eh, brothers?'

Notwithstanding that he spoke in this very friendly and confident
manner, he seemed to have considerable hesitation about entering, and
remained outside the roof. He was rather better dressed than usual:
wearing the same suit of threadbare black, it is true, but having round
his neck an unwholesome-looking cravat of a yellowish white; and, on his
hands, great leather gloves, such as a gardener might wear in following
his trade. His shoes were newly greased, and ornamented with a pair of
rusty iron buckles; the packthread at his knees had been renewed; and
where he wanted buttons, he wore pins. Altogether, he had something the
look of a tipstaff, or a bailiff's follower, desperately faded, but who
had a notion of keeping up the appearance of a professional character,
and making the best of the worst means.

'You're very snug here,' said Mr Dennis, pulling out a mouldy
pocket-handkerchief, which looked like a decomposed halter, and wiping
his forehead in a nervous manner.

'Not snug enough to prevent your finding us, it seems,' Hugh answered,
sulkily.

'Why I'll tell you what, brother,' said Dennis, with a friendly smile,
'when you don't want me to know which way you're riding, you must wear
another sort of bells on your horse. Ah! I know the sound of them you
wore last night, and have got quick ears for 'em; that's the truth.
Well, but how are you, brother?'

He had by this time approached, and now ventured to sit down by him.

'How am I?' answered Hugh. 'Where were you yesterday? Where did you go
when you left me in the jail? Why did you leave me? And what did you
mean by rolling your eyes and shaking your fist at me, eh?'

'I shake my fist!--at you, brother!' said Dennis, gently checking Hugh's
uplifted hand, which looked threatening.

'Your stick, then; it's all one.'

'Lord love you, brother, I meant nothing. You don't understand me by
half. I shouldn't wonder now,' he added, in the tone of a desponding and
an injured man, 'but you thought, because I wanted them chaps left in
the prison, that I was a going to desert the banners?'

Hugh told him, with an oath, that he had thought so.

'Well!' said Mr Dennis, mournfully, 'if you an't enough to make a man
mistrust his feller-creeturs, I don't know what is. Desert the banners!
Me! Ned Dennis, as was so christened by his own father!--Is this axe
your'n, brother?'

Yes, i