At this moment, the sound of the policeman’s rattle, and the shrieks of the ladies, were heard from below, and the astonished Major stood for a minute with his wooden leg suspended horizontally in the air, while the terrified young clerk for an instant ceased to fly before the enraged “man of war.” The Major, forgetting his anger in the alarm, hurried down stairs as fast as his wooden leg would carry him; while the little railway official no sooner saw the Major turn the corner of the kitchen stairs, than he retreated rapidly to the street-door, and once safely on the step, proceeded to make the best use of his heels. The neighbouring policeman, however, who, in answer to the sound of the rattle, came streaming in all directions towards the spot, observing the youth flying from the premises, and naturally viewing the circumstance as of a most suspicious character, raised a cry of “Stop thief!” and gave immediate chase to the terrified little Clerk. For a minute, the railway hobbledehoy was undecided as to his course of action. As he scampered along, he knew not what to do; to go back was to brave the terrors of the Major’s wooden leg—while to proceed, was to be hunted through the London streets as a pickpocket. However, his mind was soon made up, for seeing in the distance a fashionably dressed young lady, whose acquaintance he had made at Cremorne, he could not bring himself to pass her at full speed, with a crowd at his heels, so he turned back and ran into the arms of the posterior policeman, by whom he was instantly collared, and dragged towards the house he had left, with a crowd of boys in his wake. The scene that followed has already been half described. The explosion of the double-barrelled blunder was soon over; and then the little railway clerk was welcomed by the Sandboys as heartily as he had been kicked by the Major, while the Detective was as well received by the Major, as he had been insulted by the Sandboys. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER IX. “Oh, man! oh, man! what pity ’tis, That what we whop our heeghest bliss Sud disappoint us; nay, what’s worse, Sae oft turns out a real curse. It shows man’s want o’ fworeseeght truly, In not consideran’ matters duly.” _Tom Knott._ THE delight of the Sandboys at the recovery of their luggage was not altogether unbroken. If Mrs. Cursty was overjoyed at the prospect of a “change of linen,” still her joy was considerably alloyed with fear at the continued absence of her dear Jobby. If Elcy rejoiced exceedingly at the discovery of her pet Psyche, she was, nevertheless, deeply afflicted at the thought of some misfortune having befallen her brother.