"What have you heard?" said the former, in a voice that in some mysterious way reminded Arafrantz of hashberry.
"That there will be two executions tomorrow, as is the custom at the beginning of great festivals," replied the other. "One will be goblinato; a wretch who murdered his mentor Deagollo. The other is my friend Pippino."
"What do you expect?" said the aristocrat in an amused tone that reminded Ararantz even more sharply of hashberry than before. "If you will inspire such terror that every single tourist who comes here hears about it at boring length..."
"But he's not even a member of my band. He's only a poor hobbite who brings us Portobello mushrooms."
"What do you intend to do?" asked the aristocrat.
"When dawn comes, I will sound Haldiro's horn, and I will ride forth with my band. Maybe we will cleave a road, or make such an end as will be worth a song – if any be left to sing of us hereafter."
"That seems highly chancy to me, and I believe decidedly that my plan is better than yours."
