that they lived somewhere near here. We must have missed
our way. Could you perhaps direct us? It is a place called High
Dudgeon."

"You bet we could," said Toby, "but we won't. We are running away from
there, and you had better run too."

"Then perhaps you happen to know the whereabouts of a place called Low
Dudgeon, where the pirates formerly lived?"

"We do," said Toby. "You are about half-way now between High Dudgeon and
Low Dudgeon; and you had better get out of this neighborhood as fast as
you can."

"This is very interesting," said the voice. "I feel that you will be
able to give us some valuable information. If you have no objection, we
will walk behind you until we come to a place where there is more light,
when we will have a few minutes' conversation on this interesting
subject."

The seven dark figures stood aside, and the mules moved onward. The
seven figures walked behind.

In five minutes they reached a patch of ground where the moon shone
brightly through the trees, and the riders drew in their animals, and
turned to look at the figures who now marched sedately up beside them.
These figures stood in a row facing the riders, and six of them turned
their heads to the right, looking towards the first in the row, who was
probably their leader.

They were seven tall men, dressed in black frock coats and striped
trousers, with pearl-gray spats; but instead of high silk hats each wore
a small black skull-cap, as more convenient, no doubt, for their rough
life in the forest. It could be seen that they were no ordinary men;
they looked like professors at college; their faces were thoughtful and
even intellectual; each one wore spectacles; they squinted as if from
too much poring over books by lamplight. The one at the head of the row
was fat, with mutton-chop whiskers, and his frock coat was buttoned
tight over a round stomach. He spoke in the same voice which they had
heard in the dark.

"I beg your pardon," said he. "If you will be so kind as to direct us
either to High Dudgeon or to Low Dudgeon, we will not fail to gratefully
acknowledge--"

"Aha!" said one of the others, in a playful tone. "A split infinitive,
Professor!"

"I beg your pardon. A slight inadvertence. To acknowledge gratefully
your kind--"

"There's no time to talk now," said Toby. "We are running away from
these bloodthirsty cut-throats, and if they catch us we are dead, as
sure as you're born. I'll tell you what we will do. We