"Have another turn; we may not have a taste of wine for many a long day hence," says he.
"I can drink no more. Would to Heaven I could get you to answer my questions!"
"Time enough for that," says he, "when we get where we can talk above a pig's whisper with no fear of being heard. Now, master, if you can drink no more, we'll set about getting out of this. We shall be all right if we tread light, and don't bungle till we get to the foot of the stairs. There I must put out the lantern. But you lay hold of my shoulder and get ready for a bolt if needs be. Are you got a knife?"
"No," says I.
"Then I must manage to get you one when we are below. A couple of swords won't be an inconvenience to us, neither. You won't have another dram?"
"No," says I; "and you have had enough."
"That's as may be," says he. "I could drink a tun of it. Howsomever, I'll take it you're right, so far as our safety is concerned. Now, master, you take my knife and follow close. Keep your questions till we get a league on our way. I'll carry the lantern and this bag of victuals, and if I'd got another hand, hang me if I'd leave the jar behind. Here goes, master. Remember, if we are caught we shall be fleaed alive. Now, then—softly does it! Not a word!"