Are you tired of your life, sir, that you go
a-trying to provoke three great neck-or-nothing chaps, that could keep
on running over us, back'ards and for'ards, till we was dead, and then
take our bodies up behind 'em, and drown us ten miles off?'
'How far is it to London?' inquired the same speaker.
'Why, from here, sir,' answered John, persuasively, 'it's thirteen very
easy mile.'
The adjective was thrown in, as an inducement to the travellers to
ride away with all speed; but instead of having the desired effect, it
elicited from the same person, the remark, 'Thirteen miles! That's a
long distance!' which was followed by a short pause of indecision.
'Pray,' said the gentleman, 'are there any inns hereabouts?' At the word
'inns,' John plucked up his spirit in a surprising manner; his fears
rolled off like smoke; all the landlord stirred within him.
'There are no inns,' rejoined Mr Willet, with a strong emphasis on the
plural number; 'but there's a Inn--one Inn--the Maypole Inn. That's a
Inn indeed. You won't see the like of that Inn often.'
'You keep it, perhaps?' said the horseman, smiling.
'I do, sir,' replied John, greatly wondering how he had found this out.
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