"It's only half a mile from here, a straight road—you can't miss it. You'll be there as soon as we want you."
The Quaker nodded.
"Then we'd better be moving," said the chief officer. "I'll drive Maria, and you fellows go ahead in the cart."
The remarks which were now proceeding from the interior of that vehicle were much too dreadful to record. But as it was about to start, the man of peace, lifting his hands, checked the driver and said:
"I will, with thy permission, approach the grating and speak a word of counsel." And going to the door, he said in a loud voice:
"Peace, friend. Remember what the good Benjamin Franklin has said: 'He that speaks much is much mistaken.'"
The reply elicited by these remarks was of such a nature that Miss Arminster was obliged to put her hands over her ears, and the police drove off with loud guffaws, enjoying immensely the good Quaker's confusion.
"That bloke," remarked the tramp, as the Black Maria disappeared in a cloud of dust, "give me three months once, an' I feels better."
And without another word he led the party across the road and into the woods in the direction of the river.