is companions--"by the mother that bore me," said he,
almost thumping the wind out of his flea-bitten Bucephalus with his
calves, after the Irish fashion, "if the fellow isn't lighting his pipe!
I saw the sparks fly on each side of him, and there he goes like a smoky
chimney on a frosty morning! See, he turns his impudent phiz, with the
pipe in his mouth! Are we to stand that, Mr. Coates?"

"Wait awhile, sir--wait awhile," said Coates; "we'll smoke _him_
by-and-by."

Paeans have been sung in honor of the Peons of the Pampas by the
_Head_long Sir Francis; but what the gallant major extols so loudly in
the South American horsemen, viz., the lighting of a cigar when in mid
career, was accomplished with equal ease by our English highwayman a
hundred years ago, nor was it esteemed by him any extravagant feat
either. Flint, steel, and tinder were bestowed within Dick's ample
pouch, the short pipe was at hand, and within a few seconds there was a
stream of vapor exhaling from his lips, like the smoke from a steamboat
shooting down the river, and tracking his still rapid course through the
air.

"I'll let 'em see what I think of 'em!" said Dick, coolly, as he turned
his head.

It was now gray twilight. The mists of coming night were weaving a thin
curtain over the rich surrounding landscape. All the sounds and hum of
that delicious hour were heard, broken only by the regular clatter of
the horses' hoofs. Tired of shouting, the chasers now kept on their way
in deep silence; each man held his breath, and plunged his spurs, rowel
deep, into his horse; but the animals were already at the top of their
speed, and incapable of greater exertion. Paterson, who was a hard
rider, and perhaps a thought better mounted, kept the lead. The rest
followed as they might.

Had it been undisturbed by the rush of the cavalcade, the scene would
have been still and soothing. Overhead a cloud of rooks were winging
their garrulous flight to the ancestral avenue of an ancient mansion to
the right; the bat was on the wing; the distant lowing of a herd of kine
saluted the ear at intervals; the blithe whistle of the rustic herdsman,
and the merry chime of waggon bells, rang pleasantly from afar. But
these cheerful sounds, which make the still twilight hour delightful,
were lost in the tramp of the horsemen, now three abreast. The hind fled
to the hedge for shelter, and the waggoner pricked up his ears, and
fancied he heard the distant rumbling of an