s with fierce enthusiasm.

"Let out," cried Shawn suddenly. "Let out or I'll smash your nut for
you. There's some one pulling at the prisoner, and I've dropped my
baton."

The truncheons of the policemen had been so ferociously exercised that
their antagonists departed as swiftly and as mysteriously as they came.
It was just two minutes of frantic, aimless conflict, and then the
silent night was round them again, without any sound but the slow
creaking of branches, the swish of leaves as they swung and poised, and
the quiet croon of the wind along the road.

"Come on, men," said the sergeant, "we'd better be getting out of this
place as quick as we can. Are any of ye hurted?"

"I've got one of the enemy," said Shawn, panting.

"You've got what?" said the sergeant.

"I've got one of them, and he is wriggling like an eel on a pan."

"Hold him tight," said the sergeant excitedly.

"I will so," said Shawn. "It's a little one by the feel of it. If one
of ye would hold the prisoner, I'd get a better grip on this one. Aren't
they dangerous villains now?"

Another man took hold of the Philosopher's arm, and Shawn got both hands
on his captive.

"Keep quiet, I'm telling you," said he, "or I'll throttle you, I will
so. Faith, it seems like a little boy by the feel of it!"

"A little boy!" said the sergeant.

"Yes, he doesn't reach up to my waist."

"It must be the young brat from the cottage that set the dogs on us, the
one that loves beasts. Now then, boy, what do you mean by this kind of
thing? You'll find yourself in gaol for this, my young buck-o. Who was
with you, eh? Tell me that now?" and the sergeant bent forward.

"Hold up your head, sonny, and talk to the sergeant," said Shawn. "Oh!"
he roared, and suddenly he made a little rush forward. "I've got him,"
he gasped; "he nearly got away. It isn't a boy at all, sergeant; there's
whiskers on it!"

"What do you say?" said the sergeant.

"I put my hand under its chin and there's whiskers on it. I nearly let
him out with the surprise, I did so."

"Try again," said the sergeant in a low voice; "you are making a
mistake."

"I don't like touching them," said Shawn. "It's a soft whisker like a
billy-goat's. Maybe you'd try yourself, sergeant, for I tell you I'm
frightened of it."

"Hold him over here," said the sergeant, "and keep a good grip of him."

"I'll do that," said Shawn, and he hauled some reluctant object towards
his superior.

The sergeant put