Publisher's Synopsis
Thet were among the first to reach the tavern, but they had not been there many minutes, when several groups of men who had formed part of the crowd, came straggling in. Among them were Simon Tappertit and Mr. Dennis; both of whom, but especially the latter, greeted Barnaby with the utmost warmth, and paid him many compliments on the prowess he had shown. "Which," said Dennis, with an oath, as he rested his bludgeon in a corner with his hat upon it, and took his seat at the same table with them, "it does me good to think of. There was a opportunity! But it led to nothing. For my part, I don't know what would. There's no spirit among the people in these here times. Bring something to eat and drink here. I'm disgusted with humanity." "On what account?" asked Mr. Tappertit, who had been quenching his fiery face in a half-gallon can. "Don't you consider this a good beginning, mister?" "Give me security that it an't a ending," rejoined the hangman. "When that soldier went down, we might have made London ours; but no;--we stand, and gape, and look on--the justice (I wish he had had a bullet in each eye, as he would have had, if we'd gone to work my way) says.' My lads, if you '11 give me your word to disperse, I '11 order off the military, '--our people sets up a hurrah, throws up the game with the winning cards in their hands, and skulks away like a pack of tame curs as they are. Ah," said the hangman, in a tone of deep disgust, "it makes me blush for my feller creeturs. I wish I had been born a ox, I do!" "You'd have been quite as agreeable a character if you had been, I think," returned Simon Tappertit, going out in a lofty manner. "Don't be too sure of that," rejoined the hangman, calling after him; "if I was a horned animal at.
