Round the corner into the street of tumble-down houses sped yelling

Barnabas, scattering people right and left; round the corner came

No. 1 Hard in his rear.

"Stop, thief!" bellowed No. 1, louder than ever.

"Stop, thief!" roared Barnabas, louder still, and running like the

wind. Thus, No. 1 continued to bellow along behind, and Barnabas ran

on roaring before, by dint of which he had very soon drawn about him

divers other eager pursuers who, in their turn, taking up the cry,

filled the air with a raving clamor that grew and ever grew. On sped

Barnabas, still yelling "thieves," and with a yelling rabblement all

about him, on he went by crooked ways, plunging down gloomy courts,

doubling sudden corners, leading the pursuit ever deeper into the

maze of dark alleys and crooked back streets, until, spying a place

suitable to his purpose, he turned aside, and darting down a dark

and narrow entry-way, he paused there in the kindly shelter to

regain his breath, and heard the hue and cry go raving past until it

had roared itself into the distance. Then, very cautiously and with

no little difficulty, he retraced his steps, and coming at length to

the River, crossed Blackfriars Bridge and hurried west-wards; nor

did he stop or slacken his swift pace until he found himself in that

quiet, back-street at the end of which his stables were situated.

Being come there, he hammered upon the door which was presently

opened by old Gabriel Martin himself.

"Martin, I'm in a hurry," said Barnabas, "have 'The Terror' saddled

at once, and bring me a pair of spurred boots--quick!"

Without wasting time in needless words, the old groom set the

stable-boys running to and fro, and himself brought Barnabas a pair

of riding-boots, and aided him to put them on. Which done, Barnabas

threw aside the fur cap, stripped off Peterby's rough coat, and

looked about for other garments to take their place.

"If it be a coat as you're wanting, sir, there be one as you wore at

the race," said Martin, "I keep it upstairs in my room. It be a bit

tore, sir, but--"

"It will do," said Barnabas, nodding, "only--hurry, Martin!" By the

time the old groom had returned with the scarlet hunting-frock and

helped Barnabas into it, "The Terror" was led out from his box, and

immediately began to snort and rear and beat a ringing tattoo with

his great, round hoofs to a chorus of chirruping and whoa-ing from

the stable-boys.

"A bit fresh-ish, p'r'aps, sir!" said Martin, viewing the

magnificent animal with glistening eyes, "exercised reg'lar, too!

But wot 'e wants is a good, stretching, cross-country gallop."

"Well, he's going to have it, Martin."

"Ah, sir," nodded the old groom, as Barnabas tested girth and

stirrup-leathers, "you done mighty well when you bought 'im--theer

ain't another 'oss 'is ekal in London--no, nor nowheers else as I

knows on. 'E's won one race for you, and done it noble, and wot's

more sir--"




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