An hour or more had passed over without his meeting with anyone who would take compassion on him. Presently he espied, at some little distance ahead of him, a little boy coming in the opposite direction. It suddenly occurred to him that he might make a friend of the urchin, but the latter, believing him to be one of those fabulous animals he had read of in children’s good story books, or fables, as they are sometimes termed, screamed, and attempted to fly. “Come here. I want to speak to you,” cried Alfred Purvis. “Don’t run away. Come.” But the little fellow was too much alarmed by the extraordinary appearance of the speaker to approach any nearer, and, after hesitating for a few seconds, he made off in the opposite direction. “Don’t run away, you little fool,” cried the farmer’s boy; “I only want to speak to you for one moment――something of the utmost importance. Don’t run away, there’s a good fellow; you have no call to be frightened of me.” But the little fellow was frightened, and all the other could do in the way of persuasion failed to restore his confidence. Alf Purvis said no more in the way of remonstrance, but ran after the fugitive as hard as his legs would carry him. Encumbered with the hare, and pinioned as he was, he managed to get within a few yards’ distance of his younger and less agile companion. The latter screamed with fright, and, turning out of the high road, flew into an adjoining meadow. His pursuer followed fast on his heels. In another moment, Alf had overtaken the boy, with whom he came in collision, both falling on the grass together. “Oh, mercy! What shall I do? Oh, oh!” sobbed the urchin. Alf held him down by one knee, and then said, in a most conciliatory tone―― “You’ve no occasion to be a snivelin’. Nobody will hurt you. I want you to do me a favour. Come, there’s a good fellow; you won’t refuse, I’m sure. Don’t you know me?” “No I don’t.” “I work at Stoke Ferry Farm, and they’ve tied my hands behind me; that’s what they’ve been and done. Now you get up, and I’ll tell you what I want you to do.” The speaker rose to his feet. “Now, then, we’re all right. Get up, young un, and come behind this hedge.” His companion after a little hesitation obeyed, with a show of reluctance. His large eyes opened to their fullest extent when he had a full and closer view of Parvis, and he was evidently still in a state of wonderment. “Now, then,” said Alf, “I want you to cut the ropes which fasten my arms. Have you got a knife?” “No.” “Well, put your hand in my pocket, and there you’ll find one.” “In your pocket?” “Yes; lift up my frock on the right hand side, and drive your hand in my pocket. Why do you hesitate?” “I’m afraid.” “But you must not be afraid. You’re a dear good little fellow; anyone can see that, and I dare say are your mother’s pet,” cried Alf, stooping down and giving his companion a kiss. The latter plucked up courage and drew out a knife from the other’s pocket. “Open it,” said Alf.