Our man received us with a stolid look, and mechanically held out his wrists for the reception of the handcuffs; and after a word of farewell to the other prisoners, he took his place beside the private, who had his bayonet fixed. I then marched them out of barracks into the principal street of the town. Perceiving a man of my own regiment who was engaged on garrison police duty, I asked him to accompany us to the outskirts, in case the prisoner took a fancy to bolt down one of the numerous tortuous alleys that led to the wharfs near the pier. Having reached the limits of his beat, the private returned, and I was congratulating myself on having nearly reached the open country, in which Scales would run a poor chance of escaping from our custody, when we were met by a large drove of oxen. In spite of the exertions of the drovers, the cattle passed on either side of us, and Scales, handcuffed though he was, watching his opportunity, suddenly sprung aside, and dodging among the animals, gained the footpath, and ran townwards with the fleetness of a hare. Disengaging ourselves as quickly as possible from the cattle, we started in pursuit; but as we were encumbered with our rifles and knapsacks, we made but little headway, only managing to keep the fugitive in sight. We shouted to a few rustics to intercept him; but the yokels perceiving that it was only a soldier running away from an escort, greeted him instead with cries of encouragement. Suddenly, to my delight, a policeman appeared ahead, who spread out his arms and tried to catch the runaway; but Scales, dropping his head, butted him like a ram, and knocking over the guardian of the peace, turned to his right, and disappeared down a lane a little distance ahead. This lane led into a yard, which was situated at the back of a row of warehouses, and which was a _cul de sac_. Reinforced by the policeman, we followed close on the heels of the fugitive, feeling certain that as there were no means of exit, we would speedily capture him. Meeting at the entrance to the yard a drayman with his vehicle loaded with barrels, we eagerly asked him if he had seen a soldier. ‘Yes,’ the fellow replied with a grin; ‘I guess you will find him in the farthest cellar.’