I cried, "we must silence this mountebank." With three leathern
belts, one my own and two borrowed, we made fast his feet and arms, I
stuffed a kerchief into his mouth, and bound his jaws with another, but
not so tight as to hinder his breathing. Then we rolled him into a
corner where he lay peacefully making the sound of a milch cow chewing
her cud. I returned to my quarters by the minister's side, and
presently from utter weariness fell into an uneasy sleep.

* * * * *

I woke in the morning greatly refreshed for all the closeness of the
air, and, the memory of the night's events returning, was much
concerned as to the future. I could not be fighting with Muckle John
all the time, and I made no doubt that once his limbs were freed he
would try to kill me. The others were still asleep while I tiptoed over
to his corner. At first sight I got a fearsome shock, for I thought he
was dead of suffocation. He had worked the gag out of his mouth, and
lay as still as a corpse. But soon I saw that he was sleeping quietly,
and in his slumbers the madness had died out of his face. He looked
like any other sailorman, a trifle ill-favoured of countenance, and
dirty beyond the ordinary of sea-folk.

When the gaoler came with food, we all wakened up, and Gib asked very
peaceably to be released. The gaoler laughed at his predicament, and
inquired the tale of it; and when he heard the truth, called for a vote
as to what he should do. I was satisfied, from the look of Muckle John,
that his dangerous fit was over, so I gave my voice for release. Gib
shook himself like a great dog, and fell to his breakfast without a
word. I found the thin brose provided more palatable than the soup of
the evening before, and managed to consume a pannikin of it. As I
finished, I perceived that Gib had squatted by my side. There was
clearly some change in the man, for he gave the woman Isobel some very
ill words when she started ranting.

Up in the little square of window one could see a patch of clear sky,
with white clouds crossing it, and a gust of the clean air of morning
was blown into our cell. Gib sat looking at it with his eyes
abstracted, so that I feared a renewal of his daftness.

"Can ye whistle 'Jenny Nettles,' sir?" he asked me civilly.

It was surely a queer request in that place and from such a fellow. But
I complied, and to the best of my skill rendered the air.

He listened greedily. "Ay, you've got it