Bradley ate and drank. As he sat at his platter and mug, Riderhood saw him, again and yet again, steal a look at the neckerchief, as if he were correcting his slow observation and prompting his sluggish memory. “When you’re ready for your snooze,” said that honest creature, “chuck yourself on my bed in the corner, t’otherest. It’ll be broad day afore three. I’ll call you early.”
“I shall require no calling,” answered Bradley. And soon afterwards, divesting himself only of his shoes and coat, laid himself down.
Riderhood, leaning back in his wooden armchair with his arms folded on his breast, looked at him lying with his right hand clenched in his sleep and his teeth set, until a film came over his own sight, and he slept too. He awoke to find that it was daylight, and that his visitor was already astir, and going out to the riverside to cool his head:—“Though I’m blest,”