Sheppard, with a deep sigh, perceiving that her benefactor hesitated to pronounce the word. "The ban-dogs!" thundered a tall man, whose stature and former avocations had procured him the nickname of "The long drover of the Borough market. This time she tried to kill me with a dagger. Without an idea where he was going, Jack pursued his way through the fields; and, as he proceeded, the numbness of his limbs in some degree wore off, and his confidence returned. "Now, give me the woollen cloth to tie round my fetters," whispered Sheppard.
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