"Egad! 'tis warm work," exclaimed my father, leaning on his mattock as the first part of the task was completed.
"I'm right sorry I've no rum to offer you," said Captain Miles, wiping his heated brow. "You see, we're not aboard the old Venture, otherwise 'twould be different."
"I, too, regret that I brought not my flask of cordials," replied my father.
"There is a bottle of strong waters that I found close to the body of one of these villains," remarked Jeremy; "but though I did make three good attempts at it, 'twas more than I could stomach. It smells aright, but the taste--faugh! I have it in my mouth yet. Try it, Captain Hammond, and see if it suit thy palate."
So saying, he produced a bottle and handed it to my father, who gave an exclamation of surprise, quickly followed by a hearty laugh.
"Why, what's amiss?" asked the astonished Captain, as my father thrust the bottle into his pocket.
"Hist! I'll tell thee anon," said my sire mysteriously. "Now, let's resume our task."
The carcasses of the troopers' horses, the victims of Captain Miles's self-preservation, were next interred; while, to make doubly sure, the mount that Jeremy had borrowed from the Ringwood farmer was also buried.
This done, I happened to cross the highway, where, to my surprise, I found the wrappings of the package for which we had journeyed into Lyndhurst on that eventful morning.
"See! here is the covering of your packet," I exclaimed, holding it up to my father's view.