t time it had been lately
ploughed up. Well, brother, presently he saw two men on horseback coming
towards the lane through the field behind the gate; the man who rode
foremost was a tall big fellow, the very man he was in quest of; the
other was a smaller chap, not so small either, but a light, wiry fellow,
and a proper master of his hands when he sees occasion for using them.
Well, brother, the foremost man came to the gate, reached at the hank,
undid it, and rode through, holding it open for the other. Before,
however, the other could follow into the lane, out bolted the
plastramengro from behind the tree, kicked the gate to with his foot,
and, seizing the big man on horseback, 'You are my prisoner,' said he. I
am of opinion, brother, that the plastramengro, notwithstanding he went
to sleep, must have been a regular fine fellow."

"I am entirely of your opinion," said I, "but what happened then?"

"Why, brother, the Rommany chal, after he had somewhat recovered from his
surprise, for it is rather uncomfortable to be laid hold of at
night-time, and told you are a prisoner; more especially when you happen
to have two or three things on your mind which, if proved against you,
would carry you to the nashky. {256} The Rommany chal, I say, clubbed
his whip, and aimed a blow at the plastramengro, which, if it had hit him
on the skull, as was intended, would very likely have cracked it. The
plastramengro, however, received it partly on his staff, so that it did
him no particular damage. Whereupon, seeing what kind of customer he had
to deal with, he dropped his staff and seized the chal with both his
hands, who forthwith spurred his horse, hoping, by doing so, either to
break away from him, or fling him down; but it would not do--the
plastramengro held on like a bulldog, so that the Rommany chal, {257a} to
escape being hauled to the ground, suddenly flung himself off the saddle,
and then happened in that lane, close by the gate, such a struggle
between those two--the chal and the runner--as I suppose will never
happen again. But you must have heard of it; every one has heard of it;
every one has heard of the fight between the Bow Street engro {257b} and
the Rommany chal."

"I never heard of it till now."

"All England rung of it, brother. There never was a better match than
between those two. The runner was somewhat the stronger of the two--all
these engroes are strong fellows--and a great deal cooler, for all of