"Don't you believe a word," cried Dickon; "he's a cheat, and will only humbug you if you listen to him. We can bring four of them down, at all events, and then must take our chance with the but-ends of our pieces."
"Yes, yes, listen to him," cried another of the gipsies. "What have you to say about a compromise?"
"Simply this, my men," replied Sir Roger, who had still kept his place, unconcernedly, within a couple of yards of the gipsies' guns: "if you will lay down your arms and surrender, we will make a bargain with you, that we will let each one free on account of the deer-stealing against whom we cannot bring some other charge."
Sir Roger's purpose was to catch Pharold: but he had not accurately calculated upon the state of a gipsy's conscience; and as each man present very well knew that something else--if not many other things--might be justly laid to his charge, the proposed arrangement was any thing but satisfactory to the poachers. Nor was it more to the taste of Harvey and the other keepers, who had not been empowered by their employer to make any such compromise.
"No, no, sir," cried Harvey, aloud, "that won't do. My lord gave me no authority to make such a bargain. I dare say you came from him; for, indeed, no one else could tell you all about it: but, howsoever, I can't consent to that. No, no, I cry off. Damme, lay down your arms, my lads, or we will fire on you directly."
"Take that, then!" cried Dickon, pulling the trigger of his gun, the report of which was followed instantly by those of the fowling-pieces in the hands of the other gipsies, though at the very same moment--or rather, indeed, before the guns were discharged--a loud voice was heard shouting from a distance, "Do not fire, villains! Dickon, I command you not to fire!"
Sir Roger Millington and one of the keepers dropped instantly; and a good deal of confusion took place among their party, though a straggling and ill-directed fire was returned, which only wounded one of the gipsies slightly. In less than a moment, however, the keepers had recovered themselves; and, hurrying the wounded behind, were rushing on to close with their adversaries before they could reload, when a reinforcement of eleven or twelve strong men appeared behind the small party of the gipsies, and Pharold, rushing forward, thrust Dickon vehemently back, exclaiming, "Mad fool! you have ruined us all for ever!--Hold back!" he continued, addressing the keepers in the same stern and imperative voice--"hold back, fools! we are too many for you. Richard Harvey, when you plotted to entrap these poor foolish young men, you should have secured the means of taking them. But get you gone while you may! We are too many for you, I tell you; and you know of old I am not one to trifle with."
"I know you of old, sure enough, Master Pharold," replied the head keeper, running his eye doubtfully over the group of powerful men who now stood before him--"I know you of old, and I know you now; and one thing more I know, that you will come to be hanged before the year be many weeks older: I know that, too, Master Pharold."
"Lift me up! lift me up!" cried a faint voice behind. "Lift me up, fellows, I say! I want to see him!" and in compliance with this command, one or two of the men who had accompanied the keepers raised Sir Roger Millington in their arms, and brought him a little forward, so that he could obtain a sight of what was passing. He gazed intently upon Pharold, who was still standing prominent, waving the head keeper and his party back with the air more of a prince than of one in his station and class. But the knight was unable to continue his observation of what was passing for more than a moment, as the agony he seemed to be suffering--although he had sufficient power over himself to prevent any expression of pain from escaping his lips--caused him to writhe so dreadfully, that, after one brief stern glance at the gipsy, he slipped out of the arms of those who supported him, and fell again to the ground. The sight of what he suffered, however, was not without its effect upon the keepers. Had they known him, and been interested in his fate, it might, indeed, have stirred them up to greater exertions in order to avenge the injury he had sustained; but unknown and indifferent as he was to all of them, his situation but served as an example of what they might themselves encounter if they persisted in their attack of the gipsies; and Harvey, who was the best inclined of the party to undertake the risk, soon gathered from the countenances of his companions that he would be but feebly supported, if not abandoned, in any further attempt.
Unwilling, however, to yield the task he had undertaken, and inspired as much by sincere hatred towards the gipsies as by hope of recompense from his lord, he lingered, still glaring upon Pharold and his companions; and every now and then, in the bitterness of his disappointment, uttering such words as were likely to draw the adverse party themselves on to the attack which he feared to make upon them. "You are a pretty set of blackguards!" he exclaimed. "It would do my heart good to see you all hanged up in a row: why can't you mind your kettles, and not come stealing other folks deer? You go kidnapping people's children, you do, you thieves of human flesh! Ah, you'll not go long unhanged, that's one comfort!"