 is he? What would you do with him? Would you hand him over to
a pack of cowardly civilians, that shake in their shoes till they wear the soles
out, with trembling at the threats of the ragamuffins he belongs to?«
    »That's true enough.«
    »True enough! - I'll tell you what. I wish, Tom Green, that I was a
commissioned instead of a non-commissioned officer, and that I had the command
of two companies - only two companies - of my own regiment. Call me out to stop
these riots - give me the needful authority, and half-a-dozen rounds of ball
cartridge -«
    »Ay!« said the other voice. »That's all very well, but they won't give the
needful authority. If the magistrate won't give the word, what's the officer to
do?«
    Not very well knowing, as it seemed, how to overcome this difficulty, the
other man contented himself with damning the magistrates.
    »With all my heart,« said his friend.
    »Where's the use of a magistrate?« returned the other voice. »What's a
magistrate in this case, but an impertinent, unnecessary, unconstitutional sort
of interference? Here's a proclamation. Here's a man referred to in that
proclamation. Here's proof against him, and a witness on the spot. Damme! Take
him out and shoot him, sir. Who wants a magistrate?«
    »When does he go before Sir John Fielding?« asked the man who had spoken
first.
    »To-night at eight o'clock,« returned the other. »Mark what follows. The
magistrate commits him to Newgate. Our people take him to Newgate. The rioters
pelt our people. Our people retire before the rioters. Stones are thrown,
insults are offered, not a shot's fired. Why? Because of the magistrates. Damn
the magistrates!«
    When he had in some degree relieved his mind by cursing the magistrates in
various other forms of speech, the man was silent, save for a low growling,
still having reference to those authorities, which from time to time escaped
him.
    Barnaby, who had wit enough to know that this conversation concerned, and
very nearly concerned, himself, remained perfectly quiet until they ceased to
speak, when he groped his way to the door, and peeping through the air-holes,
tried to make out what kind of men they were, to whom he had been listening
