I believe he is a Boss, or a -- - at any rate he's a bad one, as I know to my cost.
_Myself_ .-- And what are you going to do?
_Tinker_ .-- Do! you may well ask that; I don't know what to do.

My poor wife and I have been talking of that all the morning, over that half-pint mug of beer; we can't determine on what's to be done.

All we know is, that we must quit the roads.

The villain swore that the next time he saw us on the roads he'd cut all our throats, and seize our horse and bit of cart that are now standing out there under the tree.
_Myself_ .-- And what do you mean to do with your horse and cart?
_Tinker_ .-- Another question! What shall we do with our cart and pony?
they are of no use to us now.

Stay on the roads I will not, both for my oath's sake and my own.