"I didn't say that," retorted the sexton. "I merely remarked that we didn't want him no more. And now just give me your attention. I've every reason to believe, and so has the great chief that I work for, that you are gettin' very thick with that swab of a King's captain. Well, now, don't go suddenly a-givin' him the cold shoulder, do you see? You can't drop a friend all at once like a hot potato without excitin' the gossip and suspicion of folk; so remember what I says and keep civil to him. But it's my opinion that after tonight you'll know which side you be on, for once get the thrill of the demon ride and you'll not want to get dismissed. Besides, gettin' dismissed by our chief ain't exactly what you might term a pleasant form of bein' entertained."
"And what do I do, Mister Sexton?"
"You'll get told all in good time."
"But what do the demon riders do?" persisted the boy.
"Frighten folk from the Marsh when the ponies are trottin' under the wool packs."
"And where do the wool packs come from?"
"From nearly every farm on the Marsh."
"And they put it all in packs and send 'em down to the coast?"
"That's the ticket, my lad. Pack 'em all up on ponies and bring back coffins full of spirit from France."
"Coffins full of spirit from France?" repeated the amazed boy.
