THE GRAZIER’S RELATION, AND HIS FIRST TERRORS.—THE EFFECTS OF GOOD
CHEER AND THE SUDDEN INTERRUPTION TO A PLEASANT PARTY.
The landlord was not long gone for the October; he came back with a
placid smile and a smacking of his lips, when he shut the door behind
him, and then deliberately placing the candlestick down, he said,
handing them the tankard,—
“There, gentlemen, if you find any better brewed than that in the three
adjoining counties, why, you may take measure for my coffin, for I
won’t live after I am told there is any so good anywhere else.”
“We will not take your word, landlord,” said one of the highwaymen,
putting the tankard to his lips, which act produced an approving nod
from the jolly landlord, who said, with much encouragement,—
“That’s right; never trust nobody; that’s my motto, and I chalks it up
over the fire-place, and acts upon it—try for yourself, and then you
won’t be deceived. What’s your opinion upon that now, sir?”
“Never drank its equal, even here.”
“I thought you’d say so; it comes out of a particular cask—one as I
puts by for myself; but you have ridden hard, and I thought a brew of
an extra strike would be an acceptable drink.”
“You are right. It is cold and very wet. I’m as tired as if I had
ridden far—the wind has blown me about so.”
“Ah, don’t you hear how it roars in the chimney?”
“So it does. What do you think of the brew, Ned—ain’t it first rate?”
“Indeed it is; I never had any equal to it. I tell you what, landlord,
it will make an excellent night-cap, for a man who has taken a glass or
two of this, would not be better able to keep his saddle.”
“No; it’s lucky we intend putting up for the night here; you have beds.”
“Yes, good, and well aired.”
“That is capital. Well, your chicken-pie is good, landlord, your ham
good, and the October excellent; and now——what’s that?”
At that moment there was a sound of horses’ feet galloping furiously
towards the houses; and they had not listened long before they came
close to the door, and then there was evidently a sudden pull up.
“Hilloa! what is that?” said his companion.
“I think it is somebody pulled up at the door,” said the landlord;
“whoever they are they have come in haste.”
The two highwaymen half rose, but a look at each other caused them to
resume their seats, and in another moment there was a loud shouting,
and a call for the ostler; but there was no one at hand.
“Where is that Jim got to—I must go and see after him, at all events—he
won’t come if I don’t.”
So saying, he walked away whilst the guests remained silent watching
the actions of the two highwaymen.
“It is but a single horseman,” said the first.
“No,” said the other; “but still he may be mischievous; and yet I can
hardly think he would venture here at such a time; besides, it can’t be
known; we are much better here than anywhere else.”
“I think so; we have nothing to fear.”
“Nothing.”
At that moment the landlord retired; and, at the same time, the door
was suddenly opened, and the grazier entered the kitchen. He glanced
around him, much confused. The fire and light, no doubt, had some share
in that; but he stared, and appeared terrified, and all splashed over.
“Where’s the ostler?” he cried out.
“Here I be,” said the worthy behind.
“Look after my horse; he is very hardly ridden. See to him, that’s a
good fellow,” said the grazier.
“Yes; I’ll see to ’un,” said Jem, who departed with the animal.
“Landlord—landlord!”
“Yes; here I am, Master Green—here am I!”
“Give me something strong; I’m half dead. I’m cold, and I’m frightened,
and that is the truth. Where’s the fire?”
“Why, Master Green, I never saw you in this state before. Give me your
hand, Master Green. I’ll show you the fire,” said the landlord, holding
out his hand to Green. “Why, you are cold—what has happened?”
“You shall hear—you shall hear,” said the half-terrified Green. “Only
give me a toss of brandy, and get me a supper, and then I shall be able
to tell you more about it. At present I can say nothing.”
“Well, that is pretty well for a man that can’t speak,” said the
landlord. “You are getting better, Mr. Green.”
“I hope I shall; the fire is comfortable.”
“Here’s some good brandy; take a gill, man. It won’t hurt you on such
an occasion as this. I have seen you do as much before; but, as for
supper, why I can’t say much. These two gentlemen have had the only
thing I had in the house, and, save the ham, I doubt much if there will
be any left.”
“If the gentlemen will join us, he is welcome to take a share of what
we have,” said one of the highwaymen. “Here will be enough for us all,
I dare say, sir, if you do not object to our company.”
“Thank you—thank you,” said Green. “I will accept of your offer gladly;
for I have had a long ride, and have had much that is uncomfortable to
put up with, to see and to fear. Lord have mercy on me say I!”
“Well, what is the matter, Mr. Green?”
“Why,” said Mr. Green, as he, between his words, poked in large
mouthfuls of food, and now and then washed it down by the aid of the
October. “You all of you know the highwayman’s corner, about fifteen
miles from here?”
“Yes,” said the landlord, “I know it well; there’s a chap hanging up in
chains there, now, at this present day, that is, if nobody hasn’t run
away with it, or it hasn’t been blown down.”
“Exactly. Well, that’s the spot; there’s been another dreadful murder
been done there. Oh! it was dreadful.”
“Well, did you see it?”
“Yes; I did.”
“What! the murder!” said both highwaymen at once.
“No; the body—I only saw the body.”
“Where was it lying?”
“Stop, stop a bit—not so fast,” said Mr. Green, who was eating very
fast indeed, but paused a moment. “You must not ask too many questions
at once, because I have one way of telling a tale, and you’ll spoil it.”
“Well, go on your own way.”
“Well, then, listen. I was coming along at a rattling pace, I can tell
you, for I was late, and tired, as it was. When I had reached the
gallows, I looked up at the body swinging in the wind, and creaking and
screaming on its rusty swivels; but I had scarcely done so, when my
horse shyed, and very nearly landed me in the mud, but I contrived to
keep my seat, though not without trouble.”
“What! at the dead man?” inquired one of the highwaymen.
“Aye,” replied his companion. “I am sure they ought not to put men up
there like scarecrows, to frighten horses with; for my part, I never
pass it but my horse snorts and bolts, and I am obliged to be wary.”
“I don’t know much about that. I have come by without my nag being any
the worse. At all events, I thought there was something in his shying
at the gallows, and I tried to push him by, but he would not go.”
“What did you do?”
“Why, I was obliged to get down,” said the grazier.
“Thrown?”
“No, no.”
“Forced to get down, you mean,” said the highwayman.
“Why, in some sort of way I did feel myself compelled to get down,
because the brute wouldn’t go a-head, and I saw something on the ground
as the clouds cleared away a little, and showed me that there was
something suspicious in the middle of the road, very much like a bundle
of clothes.”
“Indeed!” said the landlord, “what was it?”
“I’ll tell you, in course. Now, you see, I saw the animal would not
move, so I got off to see what was the matter.”
“Forced off,” added the highwayman.
“D—n it, man, what can it matter; then I got off,” said the grazier,
getting into a passion, and then, after a pause, which he employed
in taking a long pull at the October, and then wiping his lips, he
continued,—
“What is the matter now?” thought I; “so I went to the object, and
found it was a man rolled up in a cloak in the middle of the road,
dead.”
“Dead?”
“Aye, dead as a door nail.”
“Lor!” said the highwayman. “Why, then he must have been murdered, I
suppose?”
“You may take your davy of that,” said the grazier; “but I tried to
wake him up, but he was not to be disturbed, so I dragged him to the
bank, where I left him.”
“Where was he hurt?”
“Shot right in the side, or stabbed, I don’t know which, but that’s
where the blood came from, so I was sure he was dead; but when I
removed the cloak from his face, I saw he had as ugly a set of features
as a man can desire—a long, peculiar face, large, but thin nose, an
awkward set of teeth, with one or two projecting in front, and oh! such
eyes, that is when he opened them.”
“Opened them,” said the highwayman; “both?”
“Opened them,” repeated the landlord; “why, did you not tell me he was
dead?”
“Aye; but when the moonlight came upon him, he opened his eyes. Oh!
what eyes—why, they were like a pair of enormous great fish eyes—cod’s
eyes, that had become suddenly lighted up, or the moonlight reflected
back from the bottom of a new tin saucepan, and then you have ’em.”
“The devil,” said the highwayman; “and what did you do?”
“Why, I came away as fast as I could. I wasn’t to be done by a dead
man. I didn’t wait to see more than that. He turned round and stared at
me. He was so horrible, that I got upon my horse the best way I could,
and came on here as fast as the animal would come.”
“The body, I dare say, rolled over, and you thought it moved of itself.”
“I know better; besides, it opened its eyes.”
“The moon shone on them, and you thought he looked at you. You was
terror-stricken, and that is the truth of it.”
“Then I know better,” said the grazier, doggedly; “it ain’t anything of
the kind. I know it ain’t a matter that happens every day, and that’s
why you don’t believe it, and don’t understand it, but I know I’m
right.”
“House, here, house! ostler!” shouted a loud, authoritative voice
without the door of the inn, which caused them all to start and listen
for a repetition of the same sounds to prove that they were not
illusory.