"Why--what do you mean?"

"Why, ye see, Peter, Black Jarge be such a gert, strong man (I were much such another when I were young) like; lion, in 'is wrath, 'e be--ah!--a bull bean't nothin' to Black Jarge! An'

they keepers come an' found 'im under a tree, fast asleep--like David in the Cave of Adullam, Peter, wi' a couple o' rabbits as 'e'd snared. An' when they keepers tried to tak' 'im, 'e rose up, 'e did, an' throwed some on 'em this way an' some on 'em that way--'twere like Samson an' the Philistines; if only 'e'd 'appened to find the jaw-bone of a ass lyin' 'andy, 'e'd ha'

killed 'em all an' got away, sure as sure. But it weren't to be, Peter, no; dead donkeys be scarce nowadays, an' as for asses'

jaw-bones--"

"Do you mean that George is taken--a prisoner?"

The Ancient nodded, and inhaled his pinch of snuff with much evident relish.

"It be gert noos, bean't it, Peter?"

"What have they done with him? Where is he, Ancient?" But, before the old man could answer, Simon appeared.

"Ah, Peter!" said he, shaking his head, "the Gaffer's been tellin' ye 'ow they've took Jarge for poachin', I suppose--"

"Simon!" cried the Ancient, "shut thy mouth, lad hold thy gab an'

give thy poor old feyther a chance--I be tellin' 'im so fast as I can! As I was a-sayin', Peter like a fur'us lion were Jarge wi'

they keepers--eight on 'em, Peter--like dogs, a-growlin' an'

growlin', an' leapin', and worryin' all round 'im--ah!--like a lion 'e were--"

"Waitin' for a chance to use 'is 'right, d'ye see, Peter!"

added Simon.

ANCIENT. Wi' 'is eyes a-rollin' an' flamin', Peter, an' 'is mane all bristlin'--

SIMON. Cool as any cucumber, Peter--

ANCIENT. A-roarin' an' a-lashin' of 'is tail--

SIMON. And sparrin' for an openin', Peter, and when 'e sees one --downin' 'is man every time--

ANCIENT. Leapin' in the air, rollin' in the grass, wi' they keepers clingin' to 'im like leeches--ah! leeches--

SIMON. And every time they rushed, tap 'ud go 'is "left," and bang 'ud go 'is "right"--

ANCIENT. An' up 'e'd get, like Samson again, Peter, an' give 'isself a shake; bellerin'--like a bull o' Bashan--

SIMON. Ye see, they fou't so close together that the keepers was afear'd to use their guns--

ANCIENT (indignantly). Guns!--who's a-talkin' o' guns? Simon, my bye--you be allus a-maggin' an' a-maggin'; bridle thy tongue, lad, bridle thy tongue afore it runs away wi' ye.

SIMON (sheepishly). All right, Old Un--fire away!

But, at this juncture, Old Amos hove in view, followed by the Apologetic Dutton, with Job and sundry others, on their way to work, and, as they came, they talked together, with much solemn wagging of heads. Having reached the door of "The Bull," they paused and greeted us, and I thought Old Amos's habitual grin seemed a trifle more pronounced than usual.

"So poor Jarge 'as been an' gone an' done for 'isself at last, eh? Oh, my soul! think o' that, now!" sighed Old Amos.

"Allus knowed as 'e would!" added Job; "many's the time I've said as 'e would, an' you know it--all on you."

"It'll be the Barbadies, or Austrayley!" grinned Amos; "transportation, it'll be--Oh, my soul! think o' that now--an' 'im a Siss'n'urst man!"

"An' all along o' a couple o'--rabbits!" said the Ancient, emphasizing the last word with a loud rap on his snuff-box.

"Pa'tridges, Gaffer!--they was pa'tridges!" returned Old Amos.

"I allus said as Black Jarge'd come to a bad end," reiterated Job, "an' what's more--'e aren't got nobody to blame but 'isself!"

"An' all for a couple o'--rabbits!" sighed the Ancient, staring Old Amos full in the eye.

"Pa'tridges, Gaffer, they was pa'tridges--you, James Dutton--was they pa'tridges or was they not--speak up, James."

Hereupon the man Dutton, all perspiring apology, as usual, shuffled forward, and, mopping his reeking brow, delivered himself in this wise:

"W'ich I must say--meanin' no offence to nobody, an' if so be, apologizin'--w'ich I must say--me 'avin' seen 'em--they was --leastways," he added, as he met the Ancient's piercing eye, "leastways--they might 'ave been, w'ich--if they ain't--no matter!"

Having said which, he apologetically smeared his face all over with his shirt-sleeve, and subsided again.

"It do wring my 'eart--ah, that it do! to think o' pore Jarge a convic' at Bot'ny Bay!" said Old Amos, "a-workin', an' diggin', an' slavin' wi' irons on 'is legs an' arms, a-jinglin', an'

ajanglin' when 'e walks."

"Well, but it's Justice, aren't it?" demanded Job--"a poacher's a thief, an' a thief's a convic'--or should be!"

"I've 'eerd," said Old Amos, shaking his head, "I've 'eerd as they ties they convic's up to posts, an' lashes an' lashes 'em wi' the cat-o'-nine-tails!"

"They generally mostly deserves it!" nodded Job.

"But 'tis 'ard to think o' pore Jarge tied up to one o' them floggin'-posts, wi' 'is back all raw an' bleedin!" pursued Old Amos; "crool 'ard it be, an' 'im such a fine, strappin' young chap."

"'E were allus a sight too fond o' pitchin' into folk, Jarge were!"

said Job; "it be a mercy as my back weren't broke more nor once."

"Ah!" nodded the Ancient, "you must be amazin' strong in the back, Job! The way I've seed 'ee come a-rollin' an' awallerin'

out o' that theer smithy's wonnerful, wonnerful. Lord! Job--'ow you did roll!"

"Well, 'e won't never do it no more," said Job, glowering; "what wi' poachin' 'is game, an' knockin' 'is keepers about, 't aren't likely as Squire Beverley'll let 'im off very easy--"

"Who?" said I, looking up, and speaking for the first time.

"Squire Beverley o' Burn'am 'All."

"Sir Peregrine Beverley?"

"Ay, for sure."

"And how far is it to Burnham Hall?"

"'Ow fur?" repeated Job, staring; "why, it lays 't other side o'

Horsmonden--"