At that precise moment a remarkable incident occurred. Jeremiah Pamflett felt a strong hand on his collar and another strong hand at his waist, and, presto! he was twisted off his legs and raised in the air. His next bewildering sensation was being run away with. It was Tom Barley now who was the principal actor. He had observed Jeremiah Pamflett's proceeding, and he had acted on the excitement of the moment, with a vague idea of running away with the delinquent, and administering sound punishment to him by throwing him into a pond if he could find one, or into a prickly hedge, or something of the sort. There was instant confusion in the crowd. All the children looked after the flying figure of Tom Barley, holding the astonished Jeremiah aloft. The show-men were not entirely dissatisfied, the entertainment being very near its end, and a fair amount of coppers having been already gathered. Toby, an impulsive dog, and somewhat new to the business, could not resist his proclivities, and darted after Tom and Jeremiah. Phoebe, in terror, screamed, "Come back, Tom! come back!" Her voice reached Tom's ears, and he instantly turned back, followed by Toby. Arrived at his starting-point, he dropped Jeremiah to the ground, who slowly rose, in a woeful plight. His nice new clothes were disarranged; buttons were off; there was a rent here and there; he picked up his nice new hat, crushed and out of shape. "Why don't you hit one of your own size?" he cried, with his right elbow raised to protect his face. "I haven't hit you yet," said Tom. Phoebe was clinging to his arm. "And now I look at you, I _am_ a little too big for you. But you've got to be hit by some one." "I'll have the law of you!" gasped Jeremiah, gazing ruefully at his hat. "You shall pay for it, or my name ain't Jeremiah Pamflett." "Oh! Jeremiah Pamflett, is it?" said Tom, in no wise diverted from his intention by the intelligence. "Come away, Tom," said Phoebe, imploringly. "Let us go home." If anything could have contributed to Jeremiah's escape, it was this; but Tom Barley's spirit was roused, also his sense of justice, and under such influences he could be firm. "In a minute or two," he said to her. "There's nothing to be frightened at. Look here," and he addressed the crowd, "this young London spark has insulted my mistress." "And he pinched _me_!" exclaimed a girl, light dawning upon her, and through her upon other of Jeremiah's victims. "He pinched _me_!" "He pinched _me_!" came in a chorus from half a dozen indignant girls. "That settles it," said Tom. "Is there any one here of his own size, or less, that'll tackle him for twopence and a brandy-ball?" "Couldn't speak fairer," said one of the show-men. Now among the crowd was a very small boy, several inches below Jeremiah Pamflett in height, but so renowned for his pluck that he had earned the cognomen of "The Bantam." Forth stepped the Bantam. "I will!" said he.