"I am not free," answered Jeanie, "to say what I have about me, gentlemen, for there's life and death depends on my journey; but if you leave me as much as finds me bread and water, I'll be satisfied, and thank you, and pray for you."
"D—n your prayers!" said the shorter fellow, "that's a coin that won't pass with us;" and at the same time made a motion to seize her.
"Stay, gentlemen," Ratcliffe's pass suddenly occurring to her; "perhaps you know this paper."
"What the devil is she after now, Frank?" said the more savage ruffian—"Do you look at it, for, d—n me if I could read it if it were for the benefit of my clergy."
"This is a jark from Jim Ratcliffe," said the taller, having looked at the bit of paper. "The wench must pass by our cutter's law."
"I say no," answered his companion; "Rat has left the lay, and turned bloodhound, they say."
"We may need a good turn from him all the same," said the taller ruffian again.
"But what are we to do then?" said the shorter man—"We promised, you know, to strip the wench, and send her begging back to her own beggarly country, and now you are for letting her go on."
"I did not say that," said the other fellow, and whispered to his companion, who replied, "Be alive about it then, and don't keep chattering till some travellers come up to nab us."
"You must follow us off the road, young woman," said the taller.