Gerard was no sooner out of all danger than his conscience began to prick him.
"Martin, would I had not struck quite so hard." "Whom?
Oh! let that pass, he is cheap served." "Martin, I saw his grey hairs as my stick fell on him.

I doubt they will not from my sight this while." Martin grunted with contempt.

"Who spares a badger for his grey hairs?
The greyer your enemy is, the older; and the older the craftier and the craftier the better for a little killing." "Killing?
killing, Martin?
Speak not of killing!" and Gerard shook all over.
"I am much mistook if you have not," said Martin cheerfully.
"Now Heaven forbid!" "The old vagabond's skull cracked like a walnut.

Aha!" "Heaven and the saints forbid it!" "He rolled off his mule like a stone shot out of a cart.

Said I to myself, 'There is one wiped out,'" and the iron old soldier grinned ruthlessly.
Gerard fell on his knees and began to pray for his enemy's life.
At this Martin lost his patience.