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[Kamal <zo...@re...>]

Pe I have not his death to my account, and for certain no corpse lay in
the road when I passed along it a few hours later. 'Right!' I called
sturdily, deepening my voice to imitate that of my victim as nearly as I
could match it-- 'Crop-headed Puritans, tow-row-row!' Still shouting the
chorus, I mastered the reluctant horse, swung myself into saddle, and
edged up towards my comrades. 'Carey! Shackell!' I called softly,
overtaking them. At the sound of my voice, they came near to letting out
a cry that had spoilt all. Masters, indeed, started a yell: but Small
Owens (whose bands I had fortunately cut the first) reached out a hand
and clapped it over his mouth. 'How many be they?' I asked as we rode.
'Twenty-two,' answered Randles, chafing his wrists, 'and all drunk as
lords.' 'If we had arms,' said Carey, 'we might drive the whole lot.'
'But since you have not,' said I, 'we must pitch our attempt lower. In
three minutes we shall reach the high-road; and then strike spurs all to
the right for Farnham!' But our luck proved better than we hoped. For as
we drew near the exit of the lane, I heard a voice challenge. The
chorus, which had lasted us all the way, ceased on a sudden, and was
taken up by a pistol-shot. At once I guessed that here must be help,
and, feeling for my trumpet, found it and blew the call. Naked of
weapons as my comrades were, we charged down on the rear, broke it, and
flung it upon the darkness, where by this time we could hear the voice
of Wilkins, our sergeant-major, bellowing above the tumult. Within five
minutes this double charge settled all. The pack-horses were ours again,
with twenty-one inebriate prisoners. My mare, galloping home with the
third pack-horse at her heels, had alarmed the picket, and Wilkins, with
twenty men, had turned out to scour the Alton road. So, while w