"I have a dozen goose-slugs No. 2," said the boy; "but thou must pay a shilling for them. My master says I never am to use them, except I see a swan or buzzard, or something fit to cook, come over. I shall get a sound beating for my pains, and to be beat is worth a shilling."
"If thou art beat, be beat for something more," says Elzevir the tempter. "Give me that firelock that thou carriest and take a guinea."
"Nay, I know not," says the boy; "there are queer tales afloat at Lowermoigne, how that a Posse met the Contraband this morning, and shots were fired, and a gauger got an overdose of lead—maybe of goose-slugs No. 2. The smugglers got off clear, but they say the hue-and-cry is up already, and that a head-price will be fixed of twenty pound. So if I sell you a fowling-piece, maybe I shall do wrong, and have the Government upon me as well as my master." The surprise in his voice was changed to suspicion, for while he spoke I saw that his eye had fallen on my foot, though I tried to keep it in the shadow; and that he saw the boot clotted with blood, and the kerchief tied round my leg.
"'Tis for that very reason," says Elzevir, "that I want the firelock. These smugglers are roaming loose, and a pistol is a poor thing to stop such wicked rascals on a lone hillside. Come, come, thou dost not want a piece to guard thee; they will not hurt a boy."
He had the guinea between his finger and thumb, and the gleam of the gold was too strong to be withstood. So we gained a sorry matchlock, slugs, and powder, and the boy walked off over the furrow, whis-
