-sailing schooner, with
three lumbering Indiamen in her wake, Dick now took the lead along a
narrow lane that threads the fields in the direction of Hornsey. The
shouts of his followers had brought others to join them, and as he
neared Crouch End, traversing the lane which takes its name from Du-Val,
and in which a house frequented by that gayest of robbers stands, or
stood, "A highwayman! a highwayman!" rang in his ears, in a discordant
chorus of many voices.

The whole neighborhood was alarmed by the cries, and by the tramp of
horses: the men of Hornsey rushed into the road to seize the fugitive,
and women held up their babes to catch a glimpse of the flying
cavalcade, which seemed to gain number and animation as it advanced.
Suddenly three horsemen appear in the road--they hear the uproar and the
din. "A highwayman! a highwayman!" cry the voices: "stop him, stop him!"
But it is no such easy matter. With a pistol in each hand, and his
bridle in his teeth, Turpin passed boldly on. His fierce looks--his
furious steed--the impetus with which he pressed forward, bore down all
before him. The horsemen gave way, and only served to swell the list of
his pursuers.

"We have him now--we have him now!" cried Paterson, exultingly. "Shout
for your lives. The turnpike man will hear us. Shout again--again! The
fellow has heard it. The gate is shut. We have him. Ha, ha!"

The old Hornsey toll-bar was a high gate, with chevaux-de-frise on the
upper rail. It may be so still. The gate was swung into its lock, and,
like a tiger in his lair, the prompt custodian of the turnpike trusts,
ensconced within his doorway, held himself in readiness to spring upon
the runaway. But Dick kept steadily on. He coolly calculated the height
of the gate; he looked to the right and to the left--nothing better
offered; he spoke a few words of encouragement to Bess, gently patted
her neck, then struck his spurs into her sides, and cleared the spikes
by an inch. Out rushed the amazed turnpike man, thus unmercifully
bilked, and was nearly trampled to death under the feet of Paterson's
horse.

"Open the gate, fellow, and be expeditious," shouted the chief
constable.

"Not I," said the man, sturdily, "unless I gets my dues. I've been done
once already. But strike me stupid if I'm done a second time."

"Don't you perceive that's a highwayman? Don't you know that I'm chief
constable of Westminster?" said Paterson, showing his staff. "How dare
you oppose