Chapter III.

It was a rimy morning, and very damp. I had seen the damp lying on thernoutside of my little window, as if some goblin had been crying therernall night, and using the window for a pocket-handkerchief. Now, I sawrnthe damp lying on the bare hedges and spare grass, like a coarser sortrnof spiders’ webs; hanging itself from twig to twig and blade to blade.rnOn every rail and gate, wet lay clammy, and the marsh mist was sornthick, that the wooden finger on the post directing people to ourrnvillage—a direction which they never accepted, for they never camernthere—was invisible to me until I was quite close under it. Then, as Irnlooked up at it, while it dripped, it seemed to my oppressed consciencernlike a phantom devoting me to the Hulks.rnrnThe mist was heavier yet when I got out upon the marshes, so thatrninstead of my running at everything, everything seemed to run at me.rnThis was very disagreeable to a guilty mind. The gates and dikes andrnbanks came bursting at me through the mist, as if they cried as plainlyrnas could be, “A boy with somebody else’s pork pie! Stop him!” Therncattle came upon me with like suddenness, staring out of their eyes,rnand steaming out of their nostrils, “Halloa, young thief!” One blackrnox, with a white cravat on,—who even had to my awakened consciencernsomething of a clerical air,—fixed me so obstinately with his eyes, andrnmoved his blunt head round in such an accusatory manner as I movedrnround, that I blubbered out to him, “I couldn’t help it, sir! It wasn’trnfor myself I took it!” Upon which he put down his head, blew a cloud ofrnsmoke out of his nose, and vanished with a kick-up of his hind-legs andrna flourish of his tail.rnrnAll this time, I was getting on towards the river; but however fast Irnwent, I couldn’t warm my feet, to which the damp cold seemed riveted,rnas the iron was riveted to the leg of the man I was running to meet. Irnknew my way to the Battery, pretty straight, for I had been down therernon a Sunday with Joe, and Joe, sitting on an old gun, had told me thatrnwhen I was ’prentice to him, regularly bound, we would have such Larksrnthere! However, in the confusion of the mist, I found myself at lastrntoo far to the right, and consequently had to try back along thernriver-side, on the bank of loose stones above the mud and the stakesrnthat staked the tide out. Making my way along here with all despatch, Irnhad just crossed a ditch which I knew to be very near the Battery, andrnhad just scrambled up the mound beyond the ditch, when I saw the manrnsitting before me. His back was towards me, and he had his arms folded,rnand was nodding forward, heavy with sleep.rnrnI thought he would be more glad if I came upon him with his breakfast,rnin that unexpected manner, so I went forward softly and touched him onrnthe shoulder. He instantly jumped up, and it was not the same man, butrnanother man!rnrnAnd yet this man was dressed in coarse grey, too, and had a great ironrnon his leg, and was lame, and hoarse, and cold, and was everything thatrnthe other man was; except that he had not the same face, and had a flatrnbroad-brimmed low-crowned felt hat on. All this I saw in a moment, forrnI had only a moment to see it in: he swore an oath at me, made a hit atrnme,—it was a round weak blow that missed me and almost knocked himselfrndown, for it made him stumble,—and then he ran into the mist, stumblingrntwice as he went, and I lost him.rnrn“It’s the young man!” I thought, feeling my heart shoot as I identifiedrnhim. I dare say I should have felt a pain in my liver, too, if I hadrnknown where it was.rnrnI was soon at the Battery after that, and there was the rightrnman,—hugging himself and limping to and fro, as if he had never allrnnight left off hugging and limping,—waiting for me. He was awfullyrncold, to be sure. I half expected to see him drop down before my facernand die of deadly cold. His eyes looked so awfully hungry too, thatrnwhen I handed him the file and he laid it down on the grass, itrnoccurred to me he would have tried to eat it, if he had not seen myrnbundle. He did not turn me upside down this time to get at what I had,rnbut left me right side upwards while I opened the bundle and emptied myrnpockets.rnrn“What’s in the bottle, boy?” said he.rnrn“Brandy,” said I.rnrnHe was already handing mincemeat down his throat in the most curiousrnmanner,—more like a man who was putting it away somewhere in a violentrnhurry, than a man who was eating it,—but he left off to take some ofrnthe liquor. He shivered all the while so violently, that it was quiternas much as he could do to keep the neck of the bottle between hisrnteeth, without biting it off.rnrn“I think you have got the ague,” said I.rnrn“I’m much of your opinion, boy,” said he.rnrn“It’s bad about here,” I told him. “You’ve been lying out on thernmeshes, and they’re dreadful aguish. Rheumatic too.”rnrn“I’ll eat my breakfast afore they’re the death of me,” said he. “I’d dornthat, if I was going to be strung up to that there gallows as there isrnover there, directly afterwards. I’ll beat the shivers so far, I’ll betrnyou.”rnrnHe was gobbling mincemeat, meatbone, bread, cheese, and pork pie, allrnat once: staring distrustfully while he did so at the mist all roundrnus, and often stopping—even stopping his jaws—to listen. Some real orrnfancied sound, some clink upon the river or breathing of beast upon thernmarsh, now gave him a start, and he said, suddenly,—rnrn“You’re not a deceiving imp? You brought no one with you?”rnrn“No, sir! No!”rnrn“Nor giv’ no one the office to follow you?”rnrn“No!”rnrn“Well,” said he, “I believe you. You’d be but a fierce young houndrnindeed, if at your time of life you could help to hunt a wretchedrnwarmint hunted as near death and dunghill as this poor wretched warmintrnis!”rnrnSomething clicked in his throat as if he had works in him like a clock,rnand was going to strike. And he smeared his ragged rough sleeve overrnhis eyes.rnrnPitying his desolation, and watching him as he gradually settled downrnupon the pie, I made bold to say, “I am glad you enjoy it.”rnrn“Did you speak?”rnrn“I said I was glad you enjoyed it.”rnrn“Thankee, my boy. I do.”rnrnI had often watched a large dog of ours eating his food; and I nowrnnoticed a decided similarity between the dog’s way of eating, and thernman’s. The man took strong sharp sudden bites, just like the dog. Hernswallowed, or rather snapped up, every mouthful, too soon and too fast;rnand he looked sideways here and there while he ate, as if he thoughtrnthere was danger in every direction of somebody’s coming to take thernpie away. He was altogether too unsettled in his mind over it, tornappreciate it comfortably I thought, or to have anybody to dine withrnhim, without making a chop with his jaws at the visitor. In all ofrnwhich particulars he was very like the dog.rnrn“I am afraid you won’t leave any of it for him,” said I, timidly; afterrna silence during which I had hesitated as to the politeness of makingrnthe remark. “There’s no more to be got where that came from.” It wasrnthe certainty of this fact that impelled me to offer the hint.rnrn“Leave any for him? Who’s him?” said my friend, stopping in hisrncrunching of pie-crust.rnrn“The young man. That you spoke of. That was hid with you.”rnrn“Oh ah!” he returned, with something like a gruff laugh. “Him? Yes,rnyes! _He_ don’t want no wittles.”rnrn“I thought he looked as if he did,” said I.rnrnThe man stopped eating, and regarded me with the keenest scrutiny andrnthe greatest surprise.rnrn“Looked? When?”rnrn“Just now.”rnrn“Where?”rnrn“Yonder,” said I, pointing; “over there, where I found him noddingrnasleep, and thought it was you.”rnrnHe held me by the collar and stared at me so, that I began to think hisrnfirst idea about cutting my throat had revived.rnrn“Dressed like you, you know, only with a hat,” I explained, trembling;“and—and”—I was very anxious to put this delicately—“and with—the samernreason for wanting to borrow a file. Didn’t you hear the cannon lastrnnight?”rnrn“Then there _was_ firing!” he said to himself.rnrn“I wonder you shouldn’t have been sure of that,” I returned, “for wernheard it up at home, and that’s farther away, and we were shut inrnbesides.”rnrn“Why, see now!” said he. “When a man’s alone on these flats, with arnlight head and a light stomach, perishing of cold and want, he hearsrnnothin’ all night, but guns firing, and voices calling. Hears? He seesrnthe soldiers, with their red coats lighted up by the torches carriedrnafore, closing in round him. Hears his number called, hears himselfrnchallenged, hears the rattle of the muskets, hears the orders ‘Makernready! Present! Cover him steady, men!’ and is laid hands on—andrnthere’s nothin’! Why, if I see one pursuing party last night—coming uprnin order, Damn ’em, with their tramp, tramp—I see a hundred. And as tornfiring! Why, I see the mist shake with the cannon, arter it was broadrnday,—But this man”; he had said all the rest, as if he had forgotten myrnbeing there; “did you notice anything in him?”rnrn“He had a badly bruised face,” said I, recalling what I hardly knew Irnknew.rnrn“Not here?” exclaimed the man, striking his left cheek mercilessly,rnwith the flat of his hand.rnrn“Yes, there!”rnrn“Where is he?” He crammed what little food was left, into the breast ofrnhis grey jacket. “Show me the way he went. I’ll pull him down, like arnbloodhound. Curse this iron on my sore leg! Give us hold of the file,rnboy.”rnrnI indicated in what direction the mist had shrouded the other man, andrnhe looked up at it for an instant. But he was down on the rank wetrngrass, filing at his iron like a madman, and not minding me or mindingrnhis own leg, which had an old chafe upon it and was bloody, but whichrnhe handled as roughly as if it had no more feeling in it than the file.rnI was very much afraid of him again, now that he had worked himselfrninto this fierce hurry, and I was likewise very much afraid of keepingrnaway from home any longer. I told him I must go, but he took no notice,rnso I thought the best thing I could do was to slip off. The last I sawrnof him, his head was bent over his knee and he was working hard at hisrnfetter, muttering impatient imprecations at it and at his leg. The lastrnI heard of him, I stopped in the mist to listen, and the file was stillrngoing.