“No more did we, and we laughed in the governor’s face; for all that we were wrong.  ’There is somebody under that wall with a dark lantern,’ said Tom Yates, ’and every now and then the glass catches the glare and reflects it this way.’  ‘Solomon!’ cried the rest of us.  The fact is, Jenny, when Tom Yates gets half drunk he develops sagacity more than human. (Robinson gave a little groan.) Aha,” cried Miles, “the beggar has burned his finger.  I’m glad of it.  Why should I be the only sufferer by his thundering irons?  ‘Here is a lark,’ said I, ‘we’ll nab this dark lantern—­won’t we, Hazy?’ ‘Rather,’ said Hazy.  ‘Wait till I get my pistols, and I’ll give you a cutlass, George,’ says Tom Yates.  I forget who George was; but he said he was of noble blood, and I think myself he was some relation to the King-of-trumps, the whole family came about him so—­mind my hair now.  ’Oh, bother your artillery,’ said I.  ‘Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just.’  When I’m a little cut you may know it by my quoting Shakespeare.  When I’m sober I don’t remember a word of him—­and don’t want to.”

“No, the Sporting Magazine, that is your Bible, sir,” suggested Jenny.

“Yes, and let me read it without your commentary—­mind my hair now.  Where was I?  Oh.  Hazeltine and I opened the door softly and whipped out, but the beggar was too sharp for us.  No doubt he heard the door.  Anyway, before we could get through the shrubbery he was off, and we heard him clattering down the road ever so far off.  However we followed quietly on the grass by the road-side at a fair traveling pace, and by and by what do you think?  Our man had pulled up in the middle of the road and stood stock still.  ‘That is a green trick,’ thought I. However, before we could get up to him he saw us or heard us, and off down the road no end of a pace.  ‘Tally ho!’ cried I. Out came Hazy from the other hedge, and away we went—­’Pug’ ahead, ‘Growler’ and ‘Gay-lad’ scarce twenty yards from his brush, and the devil take the hindmost.  Well, of course, we made sure of catching him in about a hundred yards—­two such runners as Hazy and me—­”

“And did not you?”

“I’ll tell you.  At first we certainly gained on him a few yards, but after that I could not near him.  But Hazy put on a tremendous spurt, and left me behind for all I could do.  ‘Here is a go,’ thought I, ’and I have backed myself for a hundred pounds in a half-mile race against this beggar.’  Well, I was behind, but Hazy and the fox seemed to me to be joined together running, when all of a sudden—­pouff!  Hazy’s wind and his pluck blew out together.  He tailed off.  Wasn’t I pleased!  ‘Good-by, Hazy,’ says I, as I shot by him and took up the running.  Well, I tried all I knew; but this confounded fellow ran me within half a mile of Sydney (N.  B., within two miles of it).  My throat and all my inside was like an oven, and I was thinking of tailing off, too, when I heard the beggar puff and blow, so then I knew I must come up with him before long.”