he name of Peter. We used to
give this old fellow a shilling or two, and let him keep the account of
the number of times we rode through. He never lost by this arrangement,
as I frequently gave him half-a-crown, which would have allowed me to
pass nearly twenty times. It so happened, either from thoughtlessness
or from having been spoilt by the wilds of Natal, where a stick of
tobacco is wealth enough for a long journey, that I rode out one day
without any money in my pocket. I discovered its absence when about a
couple of miles from home; but knowing that I had a good balance to my
credit at the turnpike, I did not trouble myself to return. Cantering
on, I passed the gate without a thought, calling out as I went through,
"All right, Peter!" and stooping down to show him who I was. I did not
see Peter inside, but observed a stranger man come out as I was passing.
I paid several _p.p.c._ visits in the country, and returned towards
Cape Town. Upon approaching the pike, I saw two men, as though watching
me, standing each side of the gate. I, however, rode on, quite
unconscious of the storm hanging over my head. Since my last ride
through this pike, Peter had been turned out of his place, and a
bankrupt butcher installed in office; of this change, however, I was
ignorant at the time. As I was passing through the gate, one of the men
rushed at me, caught the bridle of my horse, and said, "Come, pay the
fare; you ain't going to bilk me a second time!" I asked what he meant,
telling him that the pikeman owed me at least a shilling. To this he
responded, "You're a blackguard cheat, and I'll pull you off your
horse." Suiting the action to the word, he caught hold of my leg and
tried to unseat me. I have ever given myself great credit for not
having dropped my heavy handled whip on this rascal's head at the time.
The man who was standing by said, "No don't strike the gentleman."
During the scene, a person, whom I had met but a day or two before at a
private house, and who happened to be a man in authority over the
police, came out from a building at the back of the turnpike. I told
him the case, and that unfortunately I had no money to pay the penny, or
twopence, turnpike. With the pomposity of office he pretended not to
recognise me, but merely asserted as an axiom, that no one was allowed
to ride through turnpikes without paying the fare. The man who had hold
of my bridle seemed to consider the sentence as a verd