Sherebiah took his measure.
"Not so, neither, master constable. Out o' my way; 'tis a late hour, and I ought to be abed."
He made to move on, but the constable stood full in his path, and the watchmen grouped themselves behind their superior.
"You may be a villain for aught I know," said the constable, "or even a vagrom or thief. Why abroad at this hour o' night?"
"I'm as sober as a judge," replied Sherebiah, "and neither thief nor vagrom. Stand aside, master constable."
"Well, 'tis dry and thirsty work watching o' nights, and there be seven of us, and a shilling don't go far in these war times; we'll take a shilling to let ye pass; eh, men?"
The watchmen mumbled assent. Sherebiah laughed.
"A shilling? 'Tis a free country, master constable, and a sober countryman don't carry shillings to buy what's his. And seems to me, so it does, as ye've had drink enough a'ready; out o' my way, I say!"
"Arrest him, men!" cried the constable, angry at being disappointed of his expected tip.
The words were scarcely out of his mouth when with sudden energy Sherebiah threw himself against him, at the same time placing a leg behind his knee. As the constable fell, Sherebiah dashed at the watchmen, toppled two of them over, their fall being accompanied by the crash of their lanterns, scattered the rest, and ran rapidly across the bridge. This unexpected onset from one whom they had taken for a simple and timid country bumpkin was too much for the watch. They made no attempt to pursue the fugitive, but returned surly and crestfallen to their lair.