“You ruffian–Posse!” he continued to call, alternately, first to one and then to the other; for his fear paralyzed all but his tongue. “You outlaw–Posse commi-ti-titous–hic!”
Buzzard also now entered from his warm nest in the kitchen, so intoxicated that he vented his enthusiasm in song, which in this case seemed apt:
“The man that is drunk is as great as a king.”
“Another champion of the King’s law!” ejaculated Charles, not without a shadow of contempt in his voice, once more assuming an attitude of defence.
“Oh, Charles!” pleaded Nell, again catching his arm.
“Posse, arrest that vagabond,” commanded the constable, from a point of safety behind the table.
“Aye, aye, sir,” replied the obedient Buzzard. “On what charge–hic?”
“He’s a law-breaker and a robber!” yelled the watchful landlord.
“He called the law a drunken idiot. Hic–hic!” woefully wailed Swallow. “Odsbud, that’s treason! Arrest him, posse–hic!”
“Knave, I arrest–hic!” asserted Buzzard.