I had resolved to stay, and never more venture country-wards--but the accident has ended that." He inquired how many persons the gang numbered now.

The 'ruffler,' or chief, answered-- "Five and twenty sturdy budges, bulks, files, clapperdogeons and maunders, counting the dells and doxies and other morts.

{7} Most are here, the rest are wandering eastward, along the winter lay.

We follow at dawn." "I do not see the Wen among the honest folk about me.

Where may he be ?" "Poor lad, his diet is brimstone, now, and over hot for a delicate taste.
He was killed in a brawl, somewhere about midsummer." "I sorrow to hear that; the Wen was a capable man, and brave." "That was he, truly.