g."

"And his brother is somewhere in the forest," said Tom; and he told
the story of Robin and Wildgoose, to which Captain Jack listened
with a look of amusement.

"Clever fellow! clever fellow!" he muttered, "he will make one of
the brotherhood one of these days!"

Tom began to realize, with a grim sense of humour, that he was
aiding and abetting the mischievous schemes of some notorious
highwayman, and that his father's two favourite young horses, by
which he set such store, were destined to become the property of
the gentlemen of the road!

At the limits of the forest Tom and his companion parted. He had
been put upon the highroad, and given careful instructions as to
the way he must take. Moreover, Captain Jack had given him a
password, which, he said, would protect him from molestation;
although a traveller on foot was not in the same danger as one who
rode a fine horse.

It cost Tom a pang to turn his back on Wildfire; but he felt so
certain that the horse would pine in London, or be stolen away,
that he preferred to leave him in the hands of a kind master who
would treat him well.

"Take your fill of life. Keep open eyes, and believe every man to
be a rogue till he prove himself an honest fellow," was the parting
advice of his companion, for whom he had already taken rather a
strong liking; "and if ever town becomes too hot, come and join
Captain Jack; and if ever you should chance to knock up against
Lord Claud, tell him that his old master sends him greeting and
felicitations, and is watching his career with admiration and
delight."

With that the captain turned and galloped away; and Tom was left
looking after him, wondering what the meaning of this last charge
could be.

CHAPTER III. IN GAY LONDON TOWN.

Tom Tufton walked through Bishopsgate, and along the crowded dirty
thoroughfare towards the Poultry, with a jaunty air of unconcern
that did credit to his powers of dissimulation.

It was Captain Jack's parting word to him to dissemble all outward
signs of astonishment at what he might see when he entered the
city; to walk on without stopping to stare or gape, to look as
though such sights were of everyday occurrence in his life, and to
bear himself with a bold and self-sufficient air, as much as to
tell the world at large that he was very well able to take care of
himself, and that roisterers and bullies had better let him alone.

Tom acted his part with considerable acumen; but withi