ndon had gone on, till one had only to shout "No Popery!" on any
street corner to draw together a crowd bent on mischief. Respectable
people grew afraid and kept to their houses, and criminals and street
vagabonds grew bolder and bolder.

As may be guessed, Simon Tappertit, the one-time apprentice of Varden
the locksmith, rejoiced at this excitement as at a chance to show his
talent for leadership. His apprentice society had now become the "United
Bulldogs," and he himself, helping the schemes of Gashford, strutted
about among the crowds with an air of vast importance.

Sir John Chester watched the trouble gathering with glee. His old enemy
Haredale, he knew, was a Catholic, and as this movement, if it grew bold
enough, meant harm to all of that religion, he hoped for its success. He
was too cunning to aid it publicly, but he sent Maypole Hugh, who was
still his spy, to Gashford; and the brawny hostler, who savagely longed
for fighting and plunder, joined with the secretary and with Dennis the
hangman to help increase the tumult.

A day had been set on which Lord George Gordon had vowed he would march
to Parliament at the head of forty thousand men to demand the passing of
a law to forbid all Catholics to enter the country. This vast
rabble-army gathered in a great field, under the command of these sorry
leaders--the misguided lord, Dennis the hangman, Tappertit, Hugh the
hostler, Gashford the secretary, and other rowdies picked for their
boldness and daring. The mob thus formed covered an immense space. All
wore blue cockades in their hats or carried blue flags, and from them
went up a hoarse roar of oaths, shouts and ribald songs.

Such was the scene on which Barnaby and his mother came as they walked
into London. They knew nothing of its cause or its meaning. Mrs. Rudge
saw its rough disorder with terror, but the confusion, the waving flags
and the shouts had got into Barnaby's brain. To him this seemed a
splendid host marching to some noble cause. He watched with sparkling
eyes, longing to join it.

Suddenly Maypole Hugh rushed from the crowd with a shout of recognition,
and, thrusting a flagstaff into Barnaby's hands, drew him into the
ranks.

His mother shrieked and ran forward, but she was thrown to the ground;
Barnaby was whirled away into the moving mass and she saw him no more.

Barnaby enjoyed that hour of march with all his soul, and the louder the
howling the more he was thrilled. The crowd surrounde