"Ah! them was good times for we! I often wish as we'd Galloping Jack back again."

The speaker, a lame old ostler, clattering about his stable-yard in wooden clogs, with a bucket in each hand, addressed himself to an unseen individual at the taproom window, who blew out large clouds of tobacco-smoke in reply.

"He was free, he was!" continued the ostler, "as free with a guinea as you and me with a shilling. I'll wager a quart as he was a gentleman born, right or wrong. Such gold lace as he wore! and such horses as he rode, to be sure!"

The old man seemed lost in admiration of the memories called up by Galloping Jack.

"What's gone with him?" asked the unseen smoker in the taproom.

"What's gone with 'em all?" said the other, angrily. "A nightcap and a nosegay, I doubt, like the rest. But he loved his perfession, did Galloping Jack; an' many's the pleasant ride he took across the Down, and what not, afore he mounted his wooden horse on Tyburn Hill."

"We'll hope it never came to that," replied the other, with something of amusement in his tone.

"Ah! I'm afeared it's past hoping and praying for too," said the ostler. "But it's a gentleman's trade," he added, reverting to his own professional view of the highwayman's calling; "a gentleman's trade—I've always said so. Look what cattle they can afford to keep!"

"You're a judge of such matters, I suppose," observed the smoker in the taproom.

"Man and boy," answered the other, "I've been about horses nigh fifty year. If I don't know a good nag when I see 'un, master, well, I'd better give out, an' take on with some likelier trade."

"That's the right sort you dressed over awhile ago," continued the smoker, leaning out of window, and showing a tall, active frame, surmounted by a swarthy face, with the eager expression of a hawk.

The ostler set his bucket down, and winked.

"You're a judge," said he, "you are, and so you ought. There's a many passes through your hands, Master Cooper, but I never see you with such a nag as this here. He's a cut above you, everyway—he is."

"That's a good one!" answered the dark man, with a boastful laugh. "Why, Ike, you old fool! I tell you I owned that very horse myself, and I gave him—gave him away as a present to a friend of mine."

"But how came Galloping Jack to part with him?" asked the ostler, much interested. "I knowed the horse, bless ye, as well as the horse knowed me, when he came into the yard not two hours back; but he's in the hands of a real gentleman now, and as pretty a rider as ever drew a rein through his fingers. There was something about his seat as put me in mind of Jack, too, and something in the way he carried his hands; but I can't call to mind seeing Jack without a mask on. Speak up, Master Cooper: it couldn't be the man himself, could it now? I never heerd as he'd swung for sure."

"Who knows!" answered the other, with a harsh laugh. "You water your horses, and mind your own business, Ike, and I'll tell the drawer to give you a pot of ale when you come into the house."

Now John Garnet, sitting after dinner at an open window above the stable-yard, overheard the foregoing conversation, and resolved straightway to take advantage of his own likeness to the missing hero, whose horse he had so strangely appropriated. Katerfelto seemed well known in these parts as the property of Galloping Jack, and, indeed, an animal of such remarkable beauty was sure to be recognised by anyone concerned with horses who had ever seen it before. If the rider's figure, too, resembled the highwayman, who had been in the habit of concealing his features in a mask, it was quite possible that he, John Garnet, riding the best horse in England, might, so long as it suited his purpose, be mistaken for the enterprising person known on the Great Western Road as Galloping Jack.

At a glance he perceived how such a confusion of characters would facilitate a project he had been maturing all day—a project that, after a few hours' rest and refreshment at the wayside inn, it seemed quite practicable to carry out before nightfall. To rob a coach single-handed, that contained four well-armed men, of whom he had reason to suppose one at least would fight to the death, seemed a bold stroke; but while he looked to the loading of his pistols, the fitting of his saddle, the feeding and bridling of his horse, and all the details on which his very life depended, he entertained but little fear for the result. His plan, though desperate in its nature, was not without discretion. He had ridden for two days ahead of Lord Bellinger's carriage, and had now turned back on his track. By sunset he calculated that the travellers would arrive at a solitary clump of trees he had marked in the lonely plain, on Marlborough Downs. Here he might conceal himself, shoot one of the horses, as it passed, and leaping out, stun my lord with the butt-end of his pistol. The servants, he hoped, would be so panic-stricken, that in the confusion he might possess himself of the papers he required, and rely on Katerfelto's speed to make his escape. All this he had confided to Waif, and now Waif was not forthcoming, though she had promised him assistance, of some mysterious nature she seemed unwilling to explain. Well, he must do it single-handed, that was all, and let Galloping Jack bear the blame.

The landlord looked after him with approval as he rode out of the inn yard an hour before sunset. His wife and her maids lavished admiring glances on the handsome coat and graceful seat of this comely horseman; while old Ike, drawing his hand down Katerfelto's firm smooth quarters, blessed him as he went. Golden opinions had the stranger won from each and all; yet each and all, if examined on oath, would have sworn they believed him to be a man who earned his daily bread by crimes that the law punished with death. Who but a highwayman would order so costly a dinner, such choice wine, and leave both almost untouched? Who but a highwayman would bow to the very kitchen scullion like a courtier, while he scattered a handful of silver in her dirty apron, or fling a guinea (his last guinea) at old Ike's head, whilst the ostler held the stirrup for him to get on. They looked meaningly in each other's faces as he disappeared, riding steadily towards the endless down, and old Ike, with the tears standing in his eyes, clattered back to his brooms and stable-pails, muttering, "He always wur free-handed, an' now he's gone his ways again for good, an' I sha'n't never see him no more!"

John Garnet rode slowly on at a pace that should husband Katerfelto's powers. The sun was already set when he arrived at the clump of trees where he meant to lie in ambush; but he passed it, unwillingly enough, and affected to proceed on his journey; for lonely as seemed the wide expanse of down, its solitude was broken by a motionless figure, to all appearance intently on the watch.

His business admitted of no observers. After a moment's hesitation he turned on his track, and rode straight to the figure, as if to ask his way.

In the twilight, he made out a tall dark man, who might have been a shepherd but for want of sheep and sheep-dog, and who never moved a limb while he approached.

"My friend," said the horseman, "I have forgotten something at the inn I left an hour ago. If you will take a message back you shall have a crown-piece for your pains."

The other pointed to the London road. "I can earn a crown-piece without walking three miles for it," said he, "and so can you, Master Garnet, if you'll stay where you are."

John Garnet fairly started at the sound of his own name.

"Who the devil are you?" he exclaimed, "and what are you doing here?"

"I am here on your business," was the unexpected answer. "You're about a tough job, sir, and you'll do it, never fear, but not single-handed."

"I don't know what you mean," replied the other; adding, after a moment's consideration, "did I not see you this afternoon smoking in the taproom of the inn?"

"Very like," said the man, composedly. "I've seen you many more times than ever you've seen me. Why, now, you look quite astonished that a gentleman can be put down by a plain man! Well, it's no use beating about the bush, I'm here to look after you because Thyra bade me come."

"Thyra!" repeated John Garnet, with an air of sudden enlightenment: "what, Waif do you mean? Why you must be Fin Cooper."

"That's my name in your patter," said the gipsy; "now I'll tell you my business. Stay, all that will keep: I hear the roll of wheels. In ten minutes the coach we are both looking for will be plodding up the hill. Go in with a will! Do it your own way, there'll be plenty to help when the time comes. Take what you want, and leave us, Romanies, the pickings. There's half a score here that go share and share alike."

John Garnet had little time to demand an explanation, or indeed to make up his mind. Already he could distinguish Lord Bellinger's coach labouring slowly up a slight ascent, crowned by the clump of trees before mentioned. He withdrew himself into their shelter, and scanned, as well as the failing light permitted, the strength of the party he had determined to attack. It happened that the servant whose duty it was to ride ahead from stage to stage had fallen to the rear; and this accounted for his missing that fore-runner, on whom he had calculated to warn him that his prey was drawing near. This increased the defending force to five; including my lord, a coachman, and two footmen; of whom one carried a blunderbuss, and was impeded moreover by the charge of Mistress Rachel.

Of his own auxiliaries he knew nothing. Wherever the half-score mentioned by Fin Cooper were concealed, not a man but the tall gipsy had yet shown himself, and he seemed unarmed by so much as a stick. Nevertheless, the coach was close upon them now. Lady Bellinger's peevish tones might already be heard from the inside.

Unseen in the black shadow of the trees, he took a pistol from his holsters—Katerfelto standing like a rock—and sighted the near wheeler. Simultaneously with the report of the weapon and two female shrieks, the animal fell dead, shot through the brain, bringing down its coach-fellow across its body, in a confused turmoil of snortings, plungings, and broken harness.

In an instant my lord had whipped out of the carriage, sword in hand, with his coat torn up the back from the vigour with which my lady pulled at it in her fright. Determined, nevertheless, to sell his life dearly, and ready, to do him justice, for a fight at any odds, right or wrong.

The mounted servant, crying "Thieves!" and "Murder!" turned his horse, and rode away at a gallop; while the footman who carried the blunderbuss, shaking himself clear of Mistress Rachel, dropped on his knees, and begged pitifully for life.

His fellow, however, being of a bolder nature, snatched the weapon out of his hand to point it full in John Garnet's face, and pulled the trigger like a hero.

It only flashed in the pan; somebody had been tampering with the firearms at the last stopping-place. The assailant was in no real danger but from Lord Bellinger's naked steel. That nobleman made at him fiercely enough; and though Katerfelto answered rein and spur, as if well-trained in such hand-to-hand conflicts, John Garnet might have been obliged to use fatal means in self-defence, but that half-a-dozen figures sprang like magic from amongst the trees; a cloak was thrown over my lord's head, while he was dragged to the earth; the servants were securely gagged and bound; my lady and Mistress Rachel compelled with hideous threats to keep silence; and the original aggressor found himself at liberty to rifle the carriage unmolested, and take what he required.

There was no difficulty in finding the warrants. With these, and the hundred guineas he had lost, safe in his pocket, John Garnet turned Katerfelto's head towards the down, pausing one moment to thank the gipsies for their timely aid, and impress on them the necessity of mercy towards their captives. In that moment Waif's hand clasped his own, and Waif's voice murmured in his ear:

"My tribe have done you good service, leave the rest to me. I do not say farewell, for it would break my heart to think we should not meet again!"