"And this is what you call well!" said Clifford angrily.
"No, Captain, don't be glimflashey! you have not heard all yet!—it seems, that the only thing buffed hard against them was by a stout grazier, who was cried 'Stand!' to, some fifty miles off the town; so the queer cuffin thinks of sending the poor fellows to the gaol of the county where they did the business!"
"Ah! that may leave some hopes for them;—we must look sharp to their journey; if they once get to prison, their only chances are the file and the bribe. Unhappily, neither of them is so lucky as myself at that trade!"
"No, indeed, there is not a stone wall in England that the great Captain Lovett could not creep through, I'll swear!" said the admiring satellite.
"Saddle the horses and load the pistols!—I will join you in ten minutes. Have my farmer's dress ready, the false hair, &c. Choose your own trim. Make haste;—the 'Three Feathers' is the house of meeting."
"And in ten minutes only, Captain?"
