as leaving behind him wealth, ease,
society. As he looked back from the heights of Highgate, the bells of
the city steeples rang out their "Turn again, Whittington!" And to tell
the truth, Frank Osbaldistone felt half inclined to obey. But the
thought of his father's grave scorn held him to his purpose, and soon
the delights of travel and the quickly changing scene chased the sadness
from his heart. Indeed, as was natural to a young man, a good horse
under his thigh and fifty guineas in his pocket helped amazingly to put
him in the best humour with himself.

The company Frank met with on the North Road was commonplace and dull.
But one poor man, a sort of army officer in a gold-laced hat, whose
martial courage was more than doubtful, amused Frank Osbaldistone by
clinging desperately to a small but apparently very heavy portmanteau,
which he carried on the pillion before him, never parting from it for a
moment. This man's talk was all of well-dressed highwaymen, whose
conversation and manners induced the unwary to join company with them.
Then in some shady dell whistling up their men, the unlucky traveller
found himself despoiled--of his goods certainly, perhaps also of his
life.

It delighted Frank's boyish humour beyond measure to play upon the fears
of this gallant King's officer--which he proceeded to do by asking him
first whether his bag were heavy or not, then by hinting that he would
like to be informed as to his route, and finally by offering to take the
bag on his own pillion and race him with the added weight to the nearest
village.

This last audacious proposal almost took the man's breath away, and from
that moment he was convinced that Frank was none other than the "Golden
Farmer" himself in disguise.

At Darlington, the landlord of their inn introduced a Scotch cattle
dealer, a certain Mr. Campbell, to share their meal. He was a
stern-faced, dark-complexioned man, with a martial countenance and an
air of instinctive command which took possession of the company at once.
The lawyer, the doctor, the clergyman, even Frank himself, found
themselves listening with deference to the words of this plainly
dressed, unobtrusive, Scottish drover. As for the man with the weighty
bag, he fairly hung upon his words. And especially so when the landlord
informed the company that Mr. Campbell had with his own hand beaten off
seven highwaymen.

"Thou art deceived, friend Jonathan," said the Scot, "they were but two,
a