"Quilt!—Mendez!—Where are you?" vociferated Wild, sounding his whistle for the third time. Holding a link into the place, which had the appearance of a deep pit, Blueskin noticed a body richly dressed. ‘But you are idiot. F. A world of haystacks, bean-stacks, and strawricks flanked the granges adjoining his habitation; the yard was crowded with poultry, pigeons were feeding at his feet, cattle were being driven towards the stall, horses led to the stable, a large mastiff was rattling his chain, and stalking majestically in front of his kennel, while a number of farming-men were passing and repassing about their various occupations. "Has he escaped?" asked the thief-taker, faintly. Not alone with her, that’s sure. "By my soul," said the sexton, "that's as like Jack Sheppard as any one I ever seed i' my born days.
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