The patrol departed, and the captain
slowly returned to his quarters, with an intention of retiring to rest.
A figure moving rapidly among the trees, in the direction of the wood
whither the Skinners had retired, caught his eye, and, wheeling on his
heel, the cautious partisan approached it, and, to his astonishment, saw
the washerwoman at that hour of the night, and in such a place.
"What, Betty! Walking in your sleep, or dreaming while awake?" cried the
trooper. "Are you not afraid of meeting with the ghost of ancient Jenny
in this her favorite pasture?"
"Ah, sure, Captain Jack," returned the sutler in her native accent, and
reeling in a manner that made it difficult for her to raise her head,
"it's not Jenny, or her ghost, that I'm saaking, but some yarbs for the
wounded. And it's the vartue of the rising moon, as it jist touches
them, that I want. They grow under yon rocks, and I must hasten, or the
charm will lose its power."
"Fool, you are fitter for your pallet than for wandering among those
rocks; a fall from one of them would break your bones; besides, the
Skinners have fled to those heights, and should you fall in with them,
they would revenge on you a sound flogging they have just received from
me. Better return, old woman, and finish your nap; we march in
the morning.
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