H----n, of Tottenham, who knows every flint in the country, "and how
will you like that, my hearties?" "Curse the Croydon Canal," bawls the
little Bromley barber, "my mule can swim like a soap-bladder, and my
toggery can't spoil, thank God!"

The prophecy turns up. Having skirted Fuller's farm, the villain finds
no place to hide; and in two minutes, or less, the canal appears in
view. It is full of craft, and the locks are open, but there is a bridge
about half a mile to the right. "If my horse can do nothing else he can
jump this," cries "Swell," as he gathers him together, and prepares for
the effort. He hardens his heart and goes at it full tilt, and the leggy
animal lands him three yards on the other side. "Curse this fellow,"
cries Jorrocks, grinning with rage as he sees "Swell" skimming through
the air like a swallow on a summer's eve, "he'll have a laugh at the
Surrey, for ever and ever, Amen. Oh, dear! oh, dear! I wish I durst leap
it. What shall I do? Here bargee," cries he to a bargeman, "lend us a
help over and I'll give you ninepence." The bargeman takes him at his
word, and getting the vessel close to the water's edge, Jorrocks has
nothing to do but ride in, and, the opposite bank being accommodating,
he lands without difficulty. Ramming his spurs into his nag, he now
starts after "Swell," who is sailing away with a few couple of hounds
that took the canal; the body of the pack and all the rest of the
field--except the Bromley barber, who is now floundering in the
water--having gone round to the bridge.

The country is open, the line being across commons and along roads, so
that Jorrocks, who is not afraid of "the pace" so long as there is no
leaping, has a pretty good chance with "Swell." The scene now shifts. On
turning out of a lane, along which they have just rattled, a fence of
this description appears: The bottom part is made of flints, and the