When Horse Shoe left the apartment, he discovered the person, whose demeanor had excited his suspicion, leaning against a post of the porch, in front of the house. The moonlight, as it partially fell upon this man's figure, disclosed a frame of sufficient mould to raise a surmise, that, in whatever form of communication the sergeant might accost him, he was not likely to find a very tractable subject to his hand. Robinson, however, without troubling himself with the contemplation of such a contingency, determined to delay his visit to the stable long enough to allow himself the expression of a word of warning or rebuke, to indicate to the stranger the necessity for restraining his curiosity in regard to the guests of the inn. With this view he halted upon the porch, while he scanned the person before him, and directed an earnest gaze into his face. The stranger, slightly discomfited by this eager scrutiny, turned his back upon his visitor, and, with an air of idle musing, threw his eyes towards the heavens, in which position he remained until summoned by the familiar accost of Horse Shoe.
"Well! and what do you make of the moon? As sharp an eye as you have in your head, neighbor, I'm thinking it will do you no great sarvice there. You're good at your spying trade; but you will get nothing out of her; she keeps her secrets."
Startled by this abrupt greeting, which was made in a tone half-way between jest and earnest, the stranger quickly confronted his challenger, and bestowed upon him a keen and inquiring inspection; then breaking into a laugh, he replied with a free and impudent swagger—
"You are mistaken, Master Jack Pudding. What says the proverb? Wit's in the wane when the moon's at full. Now, our mistress has let me into a secret. She tells me that you will not lose your wits, when she comes to her growth. The reason why? first, because she never troubles herself with so small a stock as yours, and second, because your thick skull is moon-proof; so, you're safe, friend."
"A word in your ear," said Horse Shoe; "you are not safe, friend, if you are cotched again peeping through the chinks of the window, or sneaking upon the dark side of the doorway, to pick up a crumb of talk from people that are not axing your company. Keep that in your memory."
"It's a base lie, Mr. Bumpkin, if you mean to insinuate that I did either."
"Oh, quiet and easy, good man! No flusterifications here! I am civil and peaceable. Take my advice, and chaw your cud in silence, and go to bed at a reasonable hour, without minding what folks have to say who come to the widow Dimock's. It only run in my head to give you a polite sort of a warning. So, good night; I have got business at the stable."
Before the other could reply, Robinson strode away to look after the accommodations of the horses.
"The devil take this impertinent ox-driver!" muttered the man to himself, after the sergeant had left him; "I have half a mind to take his carcase in hand, just to give it the benefit of a good, wholesome manipulation. A queer fellow, too—a joker! A civil, peaceable man!—the hyperbolical rogue! Well, I'll see him out, and, laugh or fight, he shan't want a man to stand up to him!"