‘“Hoi, yerself!” says the corporal in charge.
‘“We’ve got your man,” says the constable.
‘“Where?” says the corporal.
‘“Here, between us,” said the constable. “Only you don’t recognize him out o’ uniform.”
‘The corporal looked at Georgy hard enough; then shook his head and said he was not the absconder.
‘“But the absconder changed clothes with Farmer Jollice, and took his horse; and this man has ’em, d’ye see!”
‘“’Tis not our man,” said the soldiers. “He’s a tall young fellow with a mole on his right cheek, and a military bearing, which this man decidedly has not.”
‘“I told the two officers of justice that ’twas the other!” pleaded Georgy. “But they wouldn’t believe me.”
‘And so it became clear that the missing dragoon was the tall young farmer, and not Georgy Crookhill—a fact which Farmer Jollice himself corroborated when he arrived on the scene. As Georgy had only robbed the robber, his sentence was comparatively light. The deserter from the Dragoons was never traced: his double shift of clothing having been of the greatest advantage to him in getting off; though he left Georgy’s horse behind him a few miles ahead, having found the poor creature more hindrance than aid.’