"But how about Hamilton and Churchill?" asked Berkeley, whose courage was
not of the quality to make a good highwayman. "Crofts has invited them
here for a feast with us. How shall we get rid of them? Hamilton has
become a mere milksop, and Churchill always was too cautious and politic
for this sort of a game. Not only will they refuse to go with us if we
tell them of our purpose, but they will try to keep us from going."
"Let us take them with us," suggested Crofts. "They won't go if we tell
them our purpose, but they will not peach if we take them with us upon
some other excuse. We'll walk ahead of them, and--but come with me to the
fire. I have a plan. All I ask you to do, Wentworth, is to shake out your
cloak, hang it before the fire, and speak of the rain and the bad night
outside. I'll do the rest! I'll fetch them! Come!"
Laughing boisterously, the three swaggered over to Hamilton and
Churchill, who were sitting by the fireside. Wentworth took off his
coat, held it before the blaze to dry, and said, with a terrible oath:--
"Bad night without! Never saw it rain so hard! Raw and cold for this time
of the year!"
Crofts ordered a fresh bowl of Rack punch; then, turning to Wentworth,
asked:--
"Raining? Who cares for a little rain? I like to be out in it. By the
way, I have a wager to offer! Ten pounds to the man to the table; winner
to take the lump!"
"Hear! Hear!" cried everybody.
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