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"When likedrover quietly "Mr Renault, you salute a e to his hat in County Tryon I call him the Weasel with all the reverence hich I say 'your lordship'"

The Weasel and I exchanged another bow, and I vow he outrace, and I wondered who he its like the devil in this dawdling world o' sin, as the poet has it--eh, Weasel? So, not even taking time to ask your pardon for my Latin, sir, I catch Tiun-stock Lord, sir! That's no language for a peaceful, cattle-driving yokel, is it now? Ah, Mr Renault, I see you suspect us, and we have only to thank God you're not a lobster-back to bawl for the sergeant and his lanthorn"

"Who are you?" I asked, shway horror

"Yes," I said

"You wouldn't shake hands with hi out my hand

He took it with a chuckle, his boyish face wreathed in sistrate here and there," he istrate, overfat and proud--what haristrates, Mr Renault," he confided in a whisper "It is strange; you will scarce credit istrate, and particularly when he's fat, and the moon's low over the hills, why, my pistols leap from my belt of their own accord, and Ioff like rockets and explode to do a haristrate"

"He does nothis wrinkled hand affectionately on Mount's great aran"

"But when I'hed Mount, "I'm in very bad company, and mischief follows, sure as a headache follows a tavern revel I do not istrates, Mr Renault, only they ander on the highway, under'em to fly out!" He looked at me and furtively licked the stem of his clay pipe