The relief arrived at this moment.
The sentinel, who felt nettled at the contempt of the peddler, after
communicating his orders, while he was retiring, exclaimed to his
successor,--
"You may keep yourself warm by dancing, John; the peddler spy has tuned
his fiddle, you hear, and it will not be long before Betty will strike
up, in her turn."
The joke was followed by a general laugh from the party, who marched on
in performance of their duty. At this instant the door of the prison was
opened, and Betty reappeared, staggering back again toward her
former quarters.
"Stop," said the sentinel, catching her by her clothes; "are you sure
the spy is not in your pocket?"
"Can't you hear the rascal snoring in my room, you dirty blackguard?"
sputtered Betty, her whole frame shaking with rage. "And is it so ye
would sarve a dacent famale, that a man must be put to sleep in the room
wid her, ye rapscallion?"
"Pooh! Do you mind a fellow who's to be hanged in the morning? You see
he sleeps already; to-morrow he'll take a longer nap."
"Hands off, ye villain," cried the washerwoman, relinquishing a small
bottle that the trooper had succeeded in wresting from her. "But I'll
go to Captain Jack, and know if it's orders to put a hang-gallows spy in
my room; aye, even in my widowed bed, you tief!"
"Silence, old Jezebel!" said the fellow with a laugh, taking the bottle
from his mouth to breathe, "or you will wake the gentleman.
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