"I say, Mowle," cried Ned Ramley, in his usual daring manner, "bid them give me something to drink, for I'm devilish thirsty; and I'll give you some information, if you will."
Mowle obtained some beer for him, and then demanded, "Well, what is it, Ned?"
"Why, only this," said Ned Ramley, after they had held the beer to his lips, and he had taken a deep draught--"you will have your brains blown out, before ten days are over."
"I am not afraid," replied Mowle, laughing.
"That's right," answered Ned Ramley. "But it will happen; for fifty of us have sworn it. We have had our revenge of your spy, Harding; and we have only you to settle with now."
"Harding!" cried Mowle. "He's no spy of mine.--It was not he that peached, you young scoundrel; it was one of those whom you trusted more than him."
"Ah, well," answered Ned Ramley, indifferently; "then he'll have a sore heart to-night, that he didn't work for. But you'll have your turn yet, Mr. Mowle, so look that you make good use of your brains, for they wont be long in your skull."
"You are a hardened villain," said Sir Henry Leyton. "You had better march them off as fast as you can, my good friends; take them before a magistrate; and above all things, get them to prison ere nightfall, or we may have another rescue."
"No fear, no fear!" answered Farmer Harris. "To rescue a smuggler is one thing--I never liked to see them taken myself--but bloodthirsty villains like these, that would ill use a poor, dear, good girl, and murder her in cold blood,--why, there is not a man in the county would not help to hang them. But I wish, sir, you would go yourself, and see and stop that other great villain. If he isn't hanged too, I don't think I shall ever rest in my bed again."
"I will do my best, depend upon it," replied Leyton; "but I must first, Mr. Harris, go to your house, and see the state of that poor girl. I have known her since she was a child, and feel for her almost as if she were a sister."