Who's that running from it?
We must be near our trysting place.
Is that our man?
Come, if we are to do this thing, let us do it." "It's the fellow Ray, to a certainty," said the little man, pricking his horse into a canter as soon as he reached the first fields of Ennerdale.
In a few minutes the three men had drawn up at the cottage on the breast of Brandreth where Sim had asked for a drink.
"Mistress! Hegh! hegh! Who was the man that left you just now ?" "I dunnet know wha't war--some feckless body, I'm afeart.

He was a' wizzent and savvorless.

He begged ma a drink o' milk, but lang ere a cud cum tul him he was gane his gate like yan dazt-like." "Who could this be?
It's not our man clearly.

Who could it be, blacksmith ?" The gentleman addressed had turned alternately white and red at the woman's description.

There had flashed upon his brain the idea that little Lizzie Branthwaite had betrayed him.
"I reckon it must have been that hang-gallows of a tailor--that Sim," he said, perspiring from head to foot.
"And he's here to carry tidings of our coming.