you're at the top of your success. The dealers in blood-money never hunt
a man down until he's worth his full price."

"And isn't that the best time to take the last ride?" exclaimed
Gentleman Jack. "Who would choose to grow old and be forgotten? What
should we do sitting stiffly in an armchair, wearing slippers because
boots hurt our poor swollen feet? What should we be without a pair of
legs strong enough to grip the saddle or with eyes too dim to recognise
a pretty woman, lacking fire to fall in love, and with lips which had
lost their zest for kissing?"

"But we come to that last ride before we lack anything--that's the
trouble," was the answer.

"Not always," said another man. "Galloping Hermit was feared on all the
roads before I had stopped my first coach, and he is still feared
to-day." The speaker was young, and he mentioned the name of the
notorious highwayman with a kind of reverence.

"They say he's the devil himself, and that's why he's never been taken,"
said another. "Did any of you ever see him?"

"Once." And they all turned quickly towards the man who spoke. "My mare
had gone lame, and I had dismounted in a copse to examine her, when
there was the quick, regular beat of hoofs at a gallop across the turf.
I was alert on my own account in a moment, crouching down amongst the
undergrowth, for with a lame animal I could have made but a poor show.
There flashed past me a splendid horseman, man and beast one perfect
piece of harmony. The moon was near the full. I saw the neat, strong
lines of the horse, the easy movement of the rider, and I could see that