The gipsies tittered,—but Bob understood the question,—for much had been said by himself and the gipsies in the peculiar slang of their tribe, which Hubby had not comprehended.
"Take another horn, sir," said Bob; "and give us another ten minutes to smoke our pipes out, and I'll show ye some noose-larning, in a twink."
Hubby's head swum partly with pleasure, but much more with the strong ale, to which he was unused; but he drank off the other horn, in eager expectation of such a mental feast to follow it as he had never yet tasted.
"Come along wi' me, sir!" cried Bob, springing up, suddenly, at the end of less than ten minutes; "come along wi' me, and I'll show ye some noose-larning!"
"Are ye really off, Bob?" asked the gipsies, all together.
"Ay, ay," he answered, "kick up a roaster, and set on iron-jack against I come back."
Hubby thought this strange talk; but he had not time to think much about it, for Bob seized him by the hand, and away they scampered together over two or three fields, and then entered a wood. And here Bob took from his pocket certain strange engines of wood and wire, and, showing Hubby the noose attached to each, planted them severally in little openings of bush or brake, while Hubby stared like one that was thunder-struck, for Bob only uttered one word—"Noose-larning!" and then, seizing Hubby by the arm, hurried him on again. At length, in the thickest part of the wood, Bob began to take up engines instead of putting them down—but, lo! there were dead hares attached to them.
And now poor Hubby Dickinson saw of what kind of mettle the "miracle of mother-wit" was made, and, taking to his heels, he ran from the poacher with as much haste as if a legion of fiends were behind him. Did the poacher follow? Not he, indeed. He only burst into hysterics of laughter, and then went on with his business.
And whither fled the antiquary? Indeed, he knew not; but, having emerged from the wood, he ran as long as the fumes of the strong malt-liquor in his brains permitted him to retain possession of the power of his feet; and, when they failed him, he fell souse into a ditch, which happened merely to contain mud instead of water, and remained there, insensible and asleep for the greater part of the time, till late in the afternoon.
As luck would have it, the parson of Hambleton, who was an old antiquarian crony of Hubby's, took his afternoon walk in that direction, and, to his perfect amazement, found his erudite friend in the ditch.