Truly, he looked dangerous enough, with his beetling brow, his great depth of chest, and massive shoulders; and the possibility of a black eye or so, and general pounding from the fellow's knotted fists, was daunting in the extreme. Still, the chance of earning a guinea, even under such conditions, was not to be lightly thrown away; therefore I folded my arms and waited with as much resolution as I could. "Sir," said Cragg, speaking in a very altered tone, "sir, you seem oncommon—eager for it." "I shall be glad to get it over," said I. "If," he went on slowly, "if I said anything against—you know who, I'm sorry for it—me 'aving the greatest respec' for—you know who—you understand me, I think." And herewith he winked, three separate and distinct times. "No, I don't understand you in the least," said I, "nor do I think it at all necessary; all that I care about is the guinea in question." "Come, Tom," cried one of the company, "knock 'is 'ead off to begin with." "Ay, set about 'm, Tom—cut your gab an' finish 'im," and here came the clatter of chairs as the company rose. "Can't be done," said Cragg, shaking his head, "leastways—not 'ere." "I'm not particular," said I, "if you prefer, we might manage it very well in the stable with a couple of lanthorns." "The barn would be the very place," suggested the landlord, bustling eagerly forward and wiping his hands on his apron, "the very place—plenty of room and nice and soft to fall on. If you would only put off your fightin' till to-morrow, we might cry it through the villages; 'twould be a big draw. Ecod! we might make a purse o' twenty pound—if you only would! Think it over—think it over." "To-morrow I hope to be a good distance from here," said I; "come, the sooner it is over the better, show us your barn." So the landlord called for lanthorns and led the way to a large outbuilding at the back of the inn, into which we all trooped. "It seems to be a good place and very suitable," said I. "You may well say that," returned the landlord; "it's many a fine bout as has been brought off in 'ere; the time Jem Belcher beat 'The Young Ruffian' the Prince o' Wales sat in a cheer over in that theer corner—ah, that was a day, if you please!" "If Tom Cragg is ready," said I, turning up the wristbands of my shirt, "why, so am I." Here it was found to every one's surprise, and mine in particular, that Tom Cragg was not in the barn. Surprise gave place to noisy astonishment when, after much running to and fro, it was further learned that he had vanished altogether. The inn itself, the stables, and even the haylofts were ransacked without avail. Tom Cragg was gone as completely as though he had melted into thin air, and with him all my hopes of winning the guinea and a comfortable bed.