Looking back over his shoulder as he ran, the youth did not seem to pay any heed to the course he took, and in spite of the deacon’s warning he struck him with such force that the startled man was hurled upon the sidewalk. The boy fell on top of him, and the next moment the foremost of his pursuers cried: “I’ve got ye, Slimmy! Say yer lied, or I’ll knock th’ teeth right out yer jaw!” “Not for Joe!” retorted the fugitive, regaining his feet, but pulled down by the other. “Won’t, won’t ye, ye sneak-eyed sinner! Oh, I’ll wallop----” He had begun to pommel his victim unmercifully, while his companions urged him on with words of encouragement. This was more than the kind-hearted Deacon Cornhill, who had regained his feet, could witness without interfering, and, dropping his gripsack on the sidewalk, in order to have his hands free, he went to the rescue of the smaller boy, exclaiming: “Let him alone, you ragamuffin!” at the same time trying to catch the aggressive youngster by the collar. But the boy easily slipped from his grasp, and ran down the cross street, followed by his friends, the party giving utterance to peals of laughter. Deacon Cornhill, in his great indignation, started to give them chase, but after going a few steps thought better of his foolishness, and turned back. He was just in season to see the boy he had been defending dodging around the corner with his gripsack. “Here, stop, you thief! Catch him, somebody, he’s makin’ off with my satchel,” giving pursuit as he uttered his frantic cries. The swift-footed boy quickly disappeared around a street corner, and when the irate deacon reached the place he was nowhere to be seen. He had now left the main street, and but a few people were in sight, no one paying any heed to his distracted cries. “Oh, shucks! What shall I do? All my spare clothes, my shirt and a big hunk o’ the church money. What will the folks say? What shall I do?” Bewildered and disheartened, the strong man stood trembling from head to foot, while he wept like a child, as a stranger stopped in front of him, saying in a free and easy manner, while he laid his hand on his shoulder: “Hello, deacon! You are the last man I should have expected to meet, and here I find you in the heart of the big city. What can you be doing here? I don’t see that you have aged a bit since I saw you at your home in Basinburg four years ago. Four years, did I say? Bless me if it hasn’t been seven, or will be the coming summer. How is your good wife, and how are all the folks about town?” Then, seeing the look of bland astonishment on the other’s florid countenance, he rattled on in a different strain: