Nat and Willie went straight on down the village street, at the end of which, and a little retired from the road, Nat's cottage lay.
As they passed down the street, with Jem rolling and shouting and singing between them, he saw a gentleman in the starlight, coming along the slope toward them.
It was Leicester, who, disgusted and dissatisfied, had turned out for a walk. He saw the group of three, and was about to pass on without recognizing them, but Willie's figure, stalwart and huge, was too well known to pass unrecognized, and Leicester, with his usual kindness, said, gravely:
This was just what the two men dreaded. At the sound of the voice which he hated above all, the drunken man started and threw up his head.
"Who's that?" he snarled, hoarsely, staring before him with thick and bloodshot eyes. "Who's that? That's his voice, I'll swear."
"Come on," said Nat, giving him an angry jerk, "come on, and don't make a fool of yourself, Starling."
"I shan't," said Jem, with an oath. "I will stop and look at him. I'm a dog, I am, but a dog can look at a king--ah, and bite, too. D'ye hear that?" he shouted out to Leicester, who had walked on with the greatest indifference. That same indifference seemed to madden the miserable Jem, and, by a sudden jerk, whose very unexpectedness gave it greater force, he wrenched himself away from his keepers and sprang down the path after Leicester.
Leicester heard him coming, and turned round ready to receive him.
Leicester raised his hand and knocked him down.
The next instant Willie and Nat were down upon him and holding him down where he lay struggling and blaspheming, shouting out oaths and threats.
"You ain't hurt, Mr. Leicester?" asked Willie.
"No," said Leicester. "He has not touched me. There is no harm done, if he has received none."
"Not he," growled Willie, "the fool's drunk."
"So I see," said Leicester. "I am not likely to resent the conduct of a drunken man, but I must and I will defend myself against any attack he may make or any annoyances he may give when he is sober."
"Ay, ay," said Willie. "That is right enough."
"Perhaps you will give him to understand that when he is capable of understanding anything," said Leicester.
"Good-night, Maester Leicester," said the two men, or rather shouted it, for they had to make themselves heard above the mad ravings of their companion.