his hands sought his pistols: but
he was spared the necessity of using them, by discovering in the
intruder the bearded visage of the gipsy Balthazar. The patrico was
habited in mendicant weeds, and sustained a large wallet upon his
shoulders.

"So it's all over with the best mare in England, I see," said Balthazar;
"I can guess how it has happened--you are pursued?"

"I am," said Dick, roughly.

"Your pursuers are at hand?"

"Within a few hundred yards."

"Then, why stay here? Fly while you can."

"Never--never," cried Turpin; "I'll fight it out here by Bess's side.
Poor lass! I've killed her--but she has done it--ha, ha!--we have
won--what?" And his utterance was again choked.

"Hark! I hear the tramp of horse, and shouts," cried the patrico. "Take
this wallet. You will find a change of dress within it. Dart into that
thick copse--save yourself."

"But Bess--I cannot leave her," exclaimed Dick, with an agonizing look
at his horse.

"And what did Bess die for, but to save you?" rejoined the patrico.

"True, true," said Dick; "but take care of her, don't let those dogs of
hell meddle with her carcase."

"Away," cried the patrico, "leave Bess to me."

Possessing himself of the wallet, Dick disappeared in the adjoining
copse.

He had not been gone many seconds when Major Mowbray rode up.

"Who is this?" exclaimed the Major, flinging himself from his horse, and
seizing the patrico; "this is not Turpin."

"Certainly not," replied Balthazar, coolly. "I am not exactly the figure
for a highwayman."

"Where is he? What has become of him?" asked Coates, in despair, as he
and Paterson joined the major.

"Escaped, I fear," replied the major. "Have you seen any one, fellow?"
added he, addressing the patrico.

"I have seen no one," replied Balthazar. "I am only this instant
arrived. This dead horse lying in the road attracted my attention."

"Ha!" exclaimed Paterson, leaping from his steed, "this may be Turpin
after all. He has as many disguises as the devil himself, and may have
carried that goat's hair in his pocket." Saying which, he seized the
patrico by the beard, and shook it with as little reverence as the Gaul
handled the hirsute chin of the Roman senator.

"The devil! hands off," roared Balthazar. "By Salamon, I won't stand
such usage. Do you think a beard like mine is the growth of a few
minutes? Hands off! I say."

"Regularly done!" said Paterson, removing his hold of the patrico's
chin, and l