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'Twas, as I guess'd, a taproom for the soldiers: and the girl had been scouring one of the pewter mugs when my entrance startled her. She stood up, white as if painted, and gasp'd "Quick quick! Down here behind the counter for your life!" There was scarce time to drop on my knees before a couple of troopers loung'd in, demanding mull'd beer.
He drove it in and prepar'd to descend. "Hi!" shouted a soldier, "you've forgot the rope." "That'll wait till to-morrow. There's a staple to drive in, too. I tell you I'm dry, and want my beer." He whipp'd his apron round his waist, and gathering up his nails, went down the ladder. At the foot he pick'd up his bag, shoulder'd the ladder, and loung'd away, leaving the coil of rope lying there.
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