The footsteps stopped, but there was no answer.

'Who goes there ?' I repeated.

'Answer, or I fire.' '_Prosper the Bonaventure_,' came back out of the darkness, and I knew that I was safe.

'The devil take thee for a hot-blooded young bantam to shoot thy best friend with powder and ball, that he was fool enough to give thee'; and by this time I had guessed 'twas Master Ratsey, and recognized his voice.

'I would have let thee hear soon enough that 'twas I, if I had known I was so near thy lair; but 'tis more than a man's life is worth to creep down moleholes in the dark, and on a night like this.
And why I could not get out the gibberish about the _Bonaventure_ sooner, was because I matched my shin to break a stone, and lost the wager and my breath together.