direction, in two or three bodies, where they made fires at a good
distance from one another.
While this was doing he advanced himself and two or three with
him, and set up their tent in the lane within sight of the barrier which
the town’s men had made, and set a sentinel just by it with the real
gun, the only one they had, and who walked to and fro with the gun on
his shoulder, so as that the people of the town might see them. Also,
he tied the horse to a gate in the hedge just by, and got some dry sticks
together and kindled a fire on the other side of the tent, so that the
people of the town could see the fire and the smoke, but could not see
what they were doing at it.
After the country people had looked upon them very earnestly a
great while, and, by all that they could see, could not but suppose that
they were a great many in company, they began to be uneasy, not for
their going away, but for staying where they were; and above all,
perceiving they had horses and arms, for they had seen one horse and
one gun at the tent, and they had seen others of them walk about the
field on the inside of the hedge by the side of the lane with their
muskets, as they took them to be, shouldered; I say, upon such a sight
as this, you may be assured they were alarmed and terribly frighted,
and it seems they went to a justice of the peace to know what they
should do. What the justice advised them to I know not, but towards
the evening they called from the barrier, as above, to the sentinel at
the tent.
‘What do you want?’ says John.*
‘Why, what do you intend to do?’ says the constable. ‘To do,’ says
John; ‘what would you have us to do?’ Constable. Why don’t you be
gone? What do you stay there for?
John. Why do you stop us on the king’s highway, and pretend to
refuse us leave to go on our way?
Constable. We are not bound to tell you our reason, though we did
let you know it was because of the plague.
John. We told you we were all sound and free from the plague,
which we were not bound to have satisfied you of, and yet you pretend
to stop us on the highway.
Constable. We have a right to stop it up, and our own safety obliges
us to it. Besides, this is not the king’s highway; ’tis a way upon
sufferance. You see here is a gate, and if we do let people pass here,
we make them pay toll.
John. We have a right to seek our own safety as well as you, and
you may see we are flying for our lives: and ’tis very unchristian and
unjust to stop us.
Constable. You may go back from whence you came; we do not
hinder you from that.
John. No; it is a stronger enemy than you that keeps us from doing
that, or else we should not have come hither.
Constable. Well, you may go any other way, then.
John. No, no; I suppose you see we are able to send you going, and
all the people of your parish, and come through your town when we
will; but since you have stopped us here, we are content. You see we
have encamped here, and here we will live. We hope you will furnish
us with victuals.
*It seems John was in the tent, but hearing them call, he steps out, and
taking the gun upon his shoulder, talked to them as if he had been the
sentinel placed there upon the guard by some officer that was his
superior. [Footnote in the original.]
Constable. We furnish you I What mean you by that?
John. Why, you would not have us starve, would you? If you stop us
here, you must keep us.
Constable. You will be ill kept at our maintenance.
John. If you stint us, we shall make ourselves the better allowance.