as struggling with a rough sea. Now, he was
carried back a score of yards, now onward nearly to the door, now
back again, now forced against the opposite houses, now against those
adjoining his own: now carried up a flight of steps, and greeted by the
outstretched hands of half a hundred men, while the whole tumultuous
concourse stretched their throats, and cheered with all their might.
Though he was really in a fair way to be torn to pieces in the general
enthusiasm, the locksmith, nothing discomposed, echoed their shouts till
he was as hoarse as they, and in a glow of joy and right good-humour,
waved his hat until the daylight shone between its brim and crown.

But in all the bandyings from hand to hand, and strivings to and fro,
and sweepings here and there, which--saving that he looked more jolly
and more radiant after every struggle--troubled his peace of mind no
more than if he had been a straw upon the water's surface, he never once
released his firm grasp of an arm, drawn tight through his. He sometimes
turned to clap this friend upon the back, or whisper in his ear a word
of staunch encouragement, or cheer him with a smile; but his great care
was to shield him from the pressure, and force a passage for him to the
Golden Key. Passive and timid, scared, pale, and wondering, and gazing
at the throng as if he were newly risen from the dead, and felt himself
a ghost among the living, Barnaby--not Barnaby in the spirit, but in
flesh and blood, with pulses, sinews, nerves, and beating heart, and
strong affections--clung to his stout old friend, and followed where he
led.

And thus, in course of time, they reached the door, held ready for their
entrance by no unwilling hands. Then slipping in, and shutting out
the crowd by main force, Gabriel stood between Mr Haredale and Edward
Chester, and Barnaby, rushing up the stairs, fell upon his knees beside
his mother's bed.

'Such is the blessed end, sir,' cried the panting locksmith, to Mr
Haredale, 'of the best day's work we ever did. The rogues! it's been
hard fighting to get away from 'em. I almost thought, once or twice,
they'd have been too much for us with their kindness!'

They had striven, all the previous day, to rescue Barnaby from his
impending fate. Failing in their attempts, in the first quarter to which
they addressed themselves, they renewed them in another. Failing there,
likewise, they began afresh at midnight; and made their way, not only to
the judge a