Fred Bingham was riding moodily homewards, when he came up to a young navvy, who was walking in the same direction. Fred Bingham wanted to go up to one of the cuttings which was close to the road, and so he dismounted, and called to the lad, in his usual sharp, imperious way, “Here, you boy, hold my horse for me.” The lad looked round—“Hold it yourself,” he said. “Oh, it’s you, is it, Holl? don’t give me any of your insolence, or I’ll lay my whip over your back.” “It’s more than you dare do,” the lad said. Fred Bingham was personally not a coward, and in his present state of sullen fury he did not hesitate a moment, but struck the boy across the cheek with all his force with the riding-whip. Evan had not been a navvy for two years and a half without having his share of fighting. He was not tall, but he was broad and powerful, and he sprang forward, and before Fred Bingham could get his hands up, he struck him a tremendous right-handed blow in the face, which knocked him off his feet, as if struck with a thunderbolt. Then, smarting with the pain of the blow on his cheek, he caught up the riding-whip, and lashed Fred Bingham mercilessly over the head and body, exclaiming, “The first was for me, but that’s for master; that’s for master, curse you!” Then throwing down the broken whip, he said, “There, you won’t forget that in a hurry; now you may go.” Fred Bingham rose to his feet, half blinded with rage and pain. “Twenty pounds if you’ll bring him into the town,” he shrieked, to two navvies who had come up just as the affair began. “Not if you made it a hundred,” one of the men said, grinning. “You hit him first, and it serves you d——d well right.” Fred jumped on to his horse with a curse, and galloped furiously towards the town. “You have just about served him out, young one. My eye! how you did lay it on. You’ve spoilt his beauty for some time; there’s two of his front teeth gone; and his lips, my crikey! He won’t go grinning about for some time. Now, if you take my advice, you’ll make yourself scarce. Have you got any money in your pocket?” “Only fourpence,” Evan said. The two men consulted together. “Here’s three bob; that’s all we’ve got between us. All right—you take it; we’ve got a few shillings to get at the office.” Evan took the money. “Will you see Mr. Maynard, and tell him I’m going to start at once for Sheffield. It’s thirty miles off, and I’ll be there by morning. He’s going up to town, and I’ll meet him at the station and come on with him.” “All right, lad, we’ll tell him. You’d better keep in the fields for the first few miles.” Frank had been home about an hour, when the servant told him that one of his men wished to speak to him. Frank went to the door. “Ah, Baker,” he said, “what is it?” “Well, Gaffer, I’ve come up to speak to you about Evan; but I don’t want any one to hear me”—and he looked round mysteriously. “Nonsense, man, there’s no one to hear you here; but come in.”