“All of a sudden,” ses Sam, “they see they 'ad got to do with a man wot didn't know wot fear was, and they turned round and ran off as hard as they could run. You ought to ha' been there, Ginger. You'd 'ave enjoyed it.” Ginger Dick didn't answer 'im. Having to sit still and listen to all them lies without being able to say anything nearly choked 'im. He sat there gasping for breath. “O' course, you got your purse back in the fight, Sam?” ses Peter. “No, mate,” ses Sam. “I ain't going to tell you no lies—I did not.” “And 'ow are you going to live, then, till you get a ship, Sam?” ses Ginger, in a nasty voice. “You won't get nothing out o' me, so you needn't think it.” “Wot on earth's the matter, Ginger?” “Nor me,” ses Peter. “Not a brass farthing.” “There's no call to be nasty about it, mates,” ses Sam. “I 'ad the best fight I ever 'ad in my life, and I must put up with the loss. A man can't 'ave it all his own way.” “'Ow much was it?” ses Peter. “Ten brace-buttons, three French ha'pennies, and a bit o' tin,” ses Sam. “Wot on earth's the matter, Ginger?” 'Wot on Earth's the Matter, Ginger?'' Ginger didn't answer him. SENTENCE DEFERRED 'An Elderly Man With a Wooden Leg, Who Joined The Indignant Officer in the Pursuit.' Fortunately for Captain Bligh, there were but few people about, and the only person who saw him trip Police-Sergeant Pilbeam was an elderly man with a wooden leg, who joined the indignant officer in the pursuit. The captain had youth on his side, and, diving into the narrow alley-ways that constitute the older portion of Woodhatch, he moderated his pace and listened acutely. The sounds of pursuit died away in the distance, and he had already dropped into a walk when the hurried tap of the wooden leg sounded from one corner and a chorus of hurried voices from the other. It was clear that the number of hunters had increased. He paused a second, irresolute. The next, he pushed open a door that stood ajar in an old flint wall and peeped in. He saw a small, brick-paved yard, in which trim myrtles and flowering plants stood about in freshly ochred pots, and, opening the door a little wider, he slipped in and closed it behind him. “Well?” said a voice, sharply. “What do you want?” Captain Bligh turned, and saw a girl standing in a hostile attitude in the doorway of the house. “H'sh!” he said, holding up his finger. The girl's cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkled. “What are you doing in our yard?” she demanded. The captain's face relaxed as the sound of voices died away. He gave his moustache a twist, and eyed her with frank admiration. “Escaping,” he said, briefly. “They nearly had me, though.” “You had no business to escape into our yard,” said the girl. “What have you been escaping from?” “Fat policeman,” said the skipper, jauntily, twisting his moustache. Miss Pilbeam, only daughter of Sergeant Pilbeam, caught her breath sharply.