man and beast to journey in such cold." Pulling a flask from
his pocket, he uncorked it. "There's scarce a drop left, but
thou shouldst have half, if it would serve thee," he said, as he
put it to his lips and drained it dry. "'T is the last I have,
and eight miles of Lee way still to do!" He laughed at his
own pun, and pricked up the horse. Just as the weary animal
broke into a trot, the rider pulled rein once more and looked
up at a signboard which had attracted his notice by giving a
discordant creak as the now dying storm swung it.

"A tavern! Here 's luck, for at least we can get some more
rum." Spurring the horse up to the door, he pulled a pistol
from its holster and pounded the panel noisily.

It required more than one repetition of the blows to rouse
an indweller, but finally a window was enough raised to permit
the thrusting out of a becapped head.

"Who's below, and what do yez want?" it challenged
gruffly.

"Never mind who I am. I want a pint of the best spirits
you have, and a chance to warm myself for a ten minutes, if
you've a spark of fire within."

"Oi've nothin' for anny wan who comes routin' me out av
bed at such an hour, an' may the devil fly off wid yez for that
same," growled the man. "Go away wid yez, an' niver let me
see yez more."