"An' _me_," cried Tam Luke, with mighty contempt, "I lickit a big bobby the nicht afore yestreen. I could fecht a bobby wi' yae hand tied ahint my back." "Bobbies are nane sic bad folks. The sergeant's wife over there gied me a 'piece,'" said Cleg gratefully. "Ye are a reid-heided Irish traitor!" said the butcher's boy with emphasis. "It's my faither that's reid-heided," said Cleg promptly; "but tak' that ony way for speaking ill o' the family!" And with the back of his hand he knocked the libeller of his forbears over into the field. "I'm gaun to be captain o' a band o' robbers—will ye baith join?" said Tam Luke. Cleaver's boy was about to wreak his vengeance on Cleg from the other side of the fence, but he paused with his arm suspended to think over the proposal. "I'm gaun to be captain o' a band mysel'! Will ye join?" said the butcher's boy to Cleg, instead of assaulting him as he had first intended. "What to do?" asked practical Cleg. "To fecht the poliss, of course!" cried the butcher's boy and the baker's boy together. Their unanimity was wonderful. "_There's the sergeant the noo!_" said Cleg quietly, pointing across the road. And it was indeed the sergeant, who, having been on night duty, had just risen and strolled out to see what kind of weather it was. The valiant captains of the decimating bands which were to terrorise the police of the city, descended from their several roosts as with one mind, seized their baskets, and sped round opposite corners with amazing speed. Cleg Kelly was left alone, sitting on the paling. He pulled out what remained of his crust, and as he ate it with relish, he laughed aloud and kicked his heels with glee, so that the sergeant, stretching himself after his day-sleep, called across to the boy—— "What's up wi' ye, Cleg? Ye seem to be enjoyin' yoursel'!" But all the answer he could get out of Cleg was just, "O man, sergeant, it's prime!" But as to whether he meant the crust or only things in general, the sergeant was none the wiser. ADVENTURE VI. CLEG TURNS BURGLAR. Cleg had watched his father furtively all day. Little conversation passed between these two. Cleg devoted much of his time to a consideration of the best means of legitimate gain in his new profession of capitalist. He possessed the large sum of one shilling and a penny. It was banked upon sound old principles in the hollow end of a brick, which was buried under a flag in the backyard of a brewery. Cleg had hidden it with mystic incantations, and now carried a red worsted thread twisted round his finger to remind him of its whereabouts.