"That's it. Half Eastbourne went panting up to the Head when the beacon started burning. What d'ye think they found? Old Daddy Tonks dancing round the fire like mad and shouting that he was burning them as was damned. The language! Some one knocked the old man's pins from under him with the butt-end of a musket. And here were we sent galloping after all the poor sheep as had stampeded, and all the death and glory boys holding each other up for fear o' fainting with joy."
The people grew confidential, crowding close about the dragoon's horse.
"Do ye think t' French ull cross, sergeant?"
"They do say as Nelson 'as lost hisself."
"My ol' sow's just had a fine fam'ly. 'Taint no sense. What be a body to do!"
"It terrifies ye from sowing seeds. I ain't going to grow peas for Johnny Crappo to pick!"
The dragoon gazed profoundly at the bottom of the pot.
"Bone manure may be cheap—French bones, hee-hee!"
"Give me m'own mixen."
"Who wants the Bonypart!"