“What the devil’s this?” said a man, bursting out of a beer-shop, with a white dog at his heels; “young Oliver! Come home to your poor mother, you young dog! come home directly.” “I don’t belong to them. I don’t know them. Help! help!” cried Oliver, struggling in the man’s powerful grasp. “Help!” repeated the man. “Yes; I’ll help you, you young rascal! What books are these? You’ve been a-stealing ’em, have you? Give ’em here!” With these words the man tore the volumes from his grasp, and struck him violently on the head. “That’s right!” cried a looker-on, from a garret-window. “That’s the only way of bringing him to his senses!” “To be sure,” cried a sleepy-faced carpenter, casting an approving look at the garret-window. “It’ll do him good!” said the two women. “And he shall have it, too!” rejoined the man, administering another blow, and seizing Oliver by the collar. “Come on, you young villain! Here, Bull’s-eye, mind him, boy! mind him!” Weak with recent illness, stupified by the blows and the suddenness of the attack, terrified by the fierce growling of the dog and the brutality of the man, and overpowered by the conviction of the by-standers that he was really the hardened little wretch he was described to be, what could one poor child do! Darkness had set in; it was a low neighbourhood; no help was near; resistance was useless. In another moment he was dragged into a labyrinth of dark narrow courts, and forced along them at a pace which rendered the few cries he dared to give utterance to, wholly unintelligible. It was of little moment, indeed, whether they were intelligible or not, for there was nobody to care for them had they been ever so plain. * * * * * The gas-lamps were lighted; Mrs. Bedwin was waiting anxiously at the open door; the servant had run up the street twenty times to see if there were any traces of Oliver; and still the two old gentlemen sat perseveringly in the dark parlour, with the watch between them. CHAPTER XVI. RELATES WHAT BECAME OF OLIVER TWIST, AFTER HE HAD BEEN CLAIMED BY NANCY. THE narrow streets and courts at length terminated in a large open space, scattered about which, were pens for beasts, and other indications of a cattle-market. Sikes slackened his pace when they reached this spot, the girl being quite unable to support any longer the rapid rate at which they had hitherto walked. Turning to Oliver, he roughly commanded him to take hold of Nancy’s hand. “Do you hear?” growled Sikes, as Oliver hesitated, and looked round. They were in a dark corner, quite out of the track of passengers, and Oliver saw but too plainly that resistance would be of no avail. He held out his hand, which Nancy clasped tight in hers. “Give me the other,” said Sikes, seizing Oliver’s unoccupied hand. “Here, Bull’s-eye!” The dog looked up, and growled.