I never could rightly make aught of thy hate of 'im." "Tut, man, live and learn.

Let me have him in Wilfrey Lawson's hands, and ye'll see what for I hate the proud-stomached taistrel." "Well," said the Cumbrian, in a tone indicative of more resignation than he had previously exhibited, "I've no more cause to love 'im than yourself.

You saw 'im knock me down in the streets of Lancaster." "May ye hang him up for it, Bailiff Scroope," replied the Scot.

"May ye hang him up for it on the top of Haribee!" Robbie understood enough of this conversation to realize the character and pursuit of his travelling companions; but the details and tone of the dialogue were not of an interest sufficiently engrossing to keep him awake.

He dozed afresh, and in the unconsciousness of a fitful sleep he passed a good many miles of his dreary night ride.
A sudden glare in his eyes awoke him at one moment.