But to be a Red Man! There was in this something so startling that
the lookers-on were beside themselves with amazement. The first to break
this strange silence was the parson. 'Sir,' said he, 'we have been
thinking that you are----' 'That I am a conjurer, a French spy, a
travelling packman, or something of the sort,' observed the stranger.
Doctor Poundtext started back on his chair, and well he might; for these
words, which the Man in Red had spoken, were the very ones he himself
was about to utter. 'Who are you, sir?' resumed he, in manifest
perturbation; 'what is your name?' 'My name,' replied the other, 'is
Reid.' 'And where, in heaven's name, were you born?' demanded the
astonished parson. 'I was born on the borders of the Red Sea.'
"Doctor Poundtext had not another word to say. The schoolmaster was
equally astounded, and withdrew the pipe from his mouth; that of the
exciseman dropped to the ground: the landlord groaned aloud, and his
spouse held up her hands in mingled astonishment and awe. After giving
them this last piece of information, the strange man arose from his
seat, broke his pipe in pieces, and pitched the fragments into the fire;
then, throwing his long cloak carelessly over his shoulders, putting his
hat upon his head, and loading himself with his boots, his whip, and his
portmanteau, he desired the landlord to show him to his bed, and left
the kitchen, after smiling sarcastically to its inmates, and giving them
a familiar and unceremonious nod.
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