There had always been a superstition about the dance that to join in it, to be in it from the beginning to the end, meant the best of good luck, and to miss it was misfortune. There was, therefore, now a flinging from all sides of eager bodies into the fray. No one must be left out and as the path between the line of bodies and houses was a narrow one, every one was pressed close together, and as there had been much friendly swilling of beer and ale, every one was in the highest humour, shouting, laughing, singing, ringing their bells and blowing their whistles. Harkness was crushed in upon his enormous friend so completely that he had no other impression for the moment but of a vast expanse of heaving, leaping, corduroy waistcoat, of a hard brass button in his eye, and of himself clutching with both hands to a shiny trouser that must hold himself from falling. But they were off indeed! Four of them now in a row and the song was swinging fine and strong. One--two--three, one--two--three. Forward bend, one leg in air, backward bend, t'other leg in air, forward bend again, down the market-place and round the corner voices raised in one tremendous song. He was easier now and able more clearly to realise his position. One arm was tightly wedged in that of his companion, and he could feel the thick welling muscles taut through the stuff of the shirt. On the other side of him was a girl, and he could feel her hand pressing on his sleeve. On her side, again, was a young man--her lover. He said so, and shouted it to the world. He leaned across her and cried out her beauties as they moved, and she threw her head back and sang. The giant on the hitherside seemed to have taken Harkness into his especial protection. He had been drinking well, but it had done him no order of harm. Only he loved the world and especially Harkness. He felt, he knew, that Harkness was a stranger from "up-along." On an average day he would have resented him, been suspicious of him, and tried "to do him out of some of his blasted money." But to-night he would be his friend and protect him from the world. He would rather have had a girl crooked there under his arm, but the girl he had intended to have had somehow missed him when the fun began--but it didn't matter--the beer made everything glorious for him--and after all he had two daughters "nigh grown up," and his old missus was around somewhere, and it was just as good he didn't slip into any sort of mischief which it was easy to do on a night like this--and his name was Gideon. All this he confided to Harkness while the procession halted, for a minute or two, at the corner of the market-place to pull itself straight before it started down the hill. He had his arm around Harkness's neck and words poured from him. Gideon what or something Gideon? It didn't matter. Gideon it was and Gideon it would be so long as Harkness's memory remained.