The bushes began to move, the snow to fall from the leaves, and out rolled a heavy-looking man, dressed as a sailor, and apparently drunk; he looked up at the lady with a villainous scowl, and staggered a step towards her.
“What do you do here? Who are you?” she said, without moving.
“My name’s John Luff. I—(hiccup)—I—I do no harm!”
At the sound of his voice, Pompey became so furious that he actually dragged his great kennel from its fixture, and as his chain would not break, it came lumbering along over the stones towards the spot.
As the fellow heard this, he began to stagger off, but at every step turned round to see if the lady followed him.
This she did, keeping at the same distance from him, and saying, “Be off with you! be off!” She then saw him go out at the gate, and turn round the wall, to the shore.
Farther than her own gate she did not think it prudent to go; but when she got so far, she was rejoiced to see her husband at a distance returning upon the marsh wall to the Cliff.
Old Pompey had by this time come up to the gate with his kennel behind him, and evidently impatient to be let loose.
She was engaged in the attempt to unloose the dog as her astonished husband came up to the gate; he soon learned the cause of this appearance, and immediately undid Pompey’s collar; the animal sprang over the gate, and ran along the shore till he came to the cut where boats occasionally landed, and was closely followed by his master, who plainly saw a man pulling into the channel in a manner which convinced him he was no inexperienced hand at the oar.