Master Pearson showed himself to be an able diplomatist, and Mr Harwood would have been thoroughly satisfied had he heard the way in which his wishes were carried out. "Think of what I have been saying, my lad," he continued. "You have got the right qualities in you, depend upon that, and it's your own fault if you don't rise in the world in the way I have pointed out. And now, farewell; we shall meet again before long, I doubt not; but I have some business to settle a short distance off the road, and I must get free of this crowd." Saying this, Pearson shook Jack by the hand, and trotted past him at a quick rate. A wide ditch and hedge divided the road from a large field, along which the way was free and open. A few drovers only were in sight, urging on their cattle. Jack, who had kept his eye on his late companion, was somewhat surprised to see his seemingly sorry jade take a spring which cleared both hedge and ditch, and then to observe him cantering along the field at a rate which would have distanced many horses at a gallop. "He is a strange person," thought Jack, "but he seems good-natured and well-intentioned. I cannot make him out, but as to doing what he advises, I must take time to consider about that." CHAPTER EIGHT. ATTACKED BY CATTLE-LIFTERS. Jack, drawing up by the side of the road, waited till Brinsmead again overtook him, and then jogged on as before quietly by his side. "Well, Master Deane, I hope you have not been engaged in any idle conversation with the varlets you have fallen in with along the road," said the old man. "There are some good men and true among them, but not a few rogues too, depend on that. For my part, I think it's generally wiser to keep myself to myself, unless one meets a godly man who can discourse discreetly on spiritual matters." Jack was afraid that his good old friend was about to commence one of his long discourses. He therefore, to put a stop to it, and feeling that it was right to do so, mentioned his encounter with the stranger, though he was compelled by his promise not to say he had met him before, or to repeat the main subject of his conversation. He could not help remarking the contrast between the expression of honest Brinsmead's countenance, as he jogged along on his steady old grey horse, and that of Master Pearson: the one free and open, with a kind smile generally playing over it, and the other strongly marked and coarse, with a cunning look in the eyes, and a constant tendency to a sneer on the lips. "After all, I had better not trust that man," he said to himself. "His words are seemingly fair, but I don't altogether like him."