"'Not much!' cried I; 'why, a guinea's worth of fowls for a seven-shilling piece——'
"'Yees, sir, that's true,' said the fellow, turning slowly away from the hatch, and grinning as he turned; 'but they are none on 'em mine.'
"I could have killed him for his roguery; but there was so much fun in it——"
"——So much in your own way," cried I.
"Exactly so," said Daly; "that, instead of breaking his head, which he most righteously deserved, I joined in his infernal horse-laugh, and made the best of my way out of the farm-yard, lest I should be immediately apprehended by the right owner as a robber of hen-roosts."
"And," said I, "you carried home your spoils."
"Not I," exclaimed my unstoppable companion. "Take some wine—help yourself—and listen; for the sequel is most terrible. I had such a night of it!"
"How?" said I.
"Why," said Daly, "out of the gate I went, turned to my left, and got to Pussy's Nob; but it began to get dusk, and very soon afterwards dark; and when I began veering away over Sumpter's Green, I found myself on a wide common, without path, guide, or guide-post. As the darkness increased, so did the declivity; and when I had lost all power of seeing, I was gratified by feeling myself in a sort of quagmire, which, for all I knew, might get softer and thicker every step I took. I looked out for the stars, and saw a few: but they were of no kind of use to me; for I had not the slightest idea what direction, even under their guidance, I ought to take. I resolved to avoid the bogs; and kept edging away, until I at length reached a gap, which, as it led off the infernal common, I hoped might lead me to some habitation."