such a trap. They roared with delight, and bellowed out scraps of
advice to him.

"Knock some of the soot off him, Lord Frederick!" they shouted.
"Give the Johnny Raw his breakfast. Chuck him in among his own
cinders! Sharp's the word, or you'll see the back of him."

Encouraged by these cries, the young aristocrat advanced upon his
man. The smith never moved, but his mouth set grim and hard, while
his tufted brows came down over his keen, grey eyes. The tongs had
fallen, and his hands were hanging free.

"Have a care, master," said he. "You'll get pepper if you don't."

Something in the assured voice, and something also in the quiet
pose, warned the young lord of his danger. I saw him look hard at
his antagonist, and as he did so, his hands and his jaw dropped
together.

"By Gad!" he cried, "it's Jack Harrison!"

"My name, master!"

"And I thought you were some Essex chaw-bacon! Why, man, I haven't
seen you since the day you nearly killed Black Baruk, and cost me a
cool hundred by doing it."

How they roared on the coach.

"Smoked! Smoked, by Gad!" they yelled. "It's Jack Harrison the