But Lenoir, turning his attention next to the shaft horse, pulled the
waggon up to a standstill.

And the waggoner, furious at this, lashed Lenoir.

The whip caught him round the head and shoulders, curling about so that
the man could not get it free.

Lenoir caught at the thong, and with a sudden jerk, brought the
waggoner down from his seat.

Now began as pretty a little skirmish as you could wish to see.

The waggoner fell an easy prey to the furious coiner at first.

He was half-dazed with being jerked down to the ground.

But he soon recovered himself.

Then he set to punching at Lenoir with all his strength.

Then they grappled fiercely with each other.

A desperate struggle for supremacy ensued.

At length Lenoir's superior strength and science prevailed, tough as
the waggoner was.

The latter lay under the coiner, whose knee pressed cruelly upon his
chest.

"Now ask my pardon," said Lenoir.

"Never!" roared the defeated waggoner, stoutly.

"I shall kill you if you don't," said Lenoir, threateningly.

"Mind you don't get finished off first," said the waggoner
significantly.

As he spoke, he was looking up over his conqueror's shoulder.

Lenoir perceived this, but thought it only a _ruse_ to get him to shift
his hold.

So, with a contemptuous smile, he raised his clenched fist to deal the
luckless waggoner a blow that was to knock every scrap of sense out of
his unfortunate cranium.

"Take that!"

But before the waggoner could get it, Lenoir received something himself
that sent him to earth with a hollow groan--felled like a bullock
beneath the butcher's pole-axe.

Somebody had after all been concealed in the waggon.

That somebody was Herbert Murray himself.

The English youth had heard the scuffle, and seeing his opportunity, he
slid out of his place of concealment and joined in the fight at the
very right moment.

* * * *

The waggoner shook himself together.

"That was neatly done, _camarade_," he said.

"I was just in time," said Murray; "look after him. He is wanted by the
police; a desperate customer. They are after him now."

"He's very quiet," said the waggoner, with a curious glance.

"He's not dead," returned Murray; "he has his destiny to fulfil yet."

"What may that be?"

"The galleys," was the reply.

The waggoner stared hard at young Murray.

"I don't like the look of you much more than that of the beast lyi