A mile farther on he came upon a person with broken boots, a beery face, and clothes to match his boots. This person was seated in the sunshine under a hedge, a bundle and a tin can beside him. He hailed Jones as "Guvernor" and requested a match. Jones supplied the match, and they fell into conversation. "Northbourne," said the tramp. "I'm goin' that way meself. I'll shew you the quickest way when I've had a suck at me pipe." Jones rested for a moment by the hedge whilst the pipe was lit. The trespass business was still hot in his mind. The cave-in of the Landlord had not entirely removed the sense of outrage. "Aren't you afraid of being held up for trespass?" asked he. "Trespass," replied the other, "not me. I ain't afeared of no farmers." Jones gave his experience. "Don't you be under no bloomin' error," said the tramp, when the recital was finished. "That chap was right enough. That chap couldn't touch the likes of me, unless he lied and swore I'd broke fences, but he could touch the likes of you. I know the Lor. I know it in and out. Landlords don't know it as well as me. That chap knows the lor, else he wouldn't a' been so keen on gettin' your name and where you lived." "But how could he have touched me if he cannot touch you?" The tramp chuckled. "I'll tell you," said he, "and I'll tell you what he'll do now he's got where you live. He'll go to the Co't o' Charncery and arsk for a 'junction against you to stop you goin' over his fields. You don't want to go over his fields any more, that don't matter. He'll get his 'junction and you'll have to pay the bloomin' costs--see--the bloomin' costs, and what will that amahnt to? Gawd knows, maybe a hundred pound. Lots of folks take it into their silly heads they can go where they want. They carnt, not if the Landlord knows his Lor, not unless they're hoofin' it like me. Lot o' use bringin' _me_ up to the Co't o' Charncery." "Do you mean to say that just for walking over a field a man can be had up to the court of Chancery and fined a hundred pounds?" "He ain't fined, it's took off him in costs." "You seem to know a lot about the law," said Jones, calling up the man of the public house last night, and coming to the conclusion that amongst the English lower orders there must be a vast fund of a peculiar sort of intelligence. "Yes," said the tramp. "I told you I did." Then interestedly, "What might your name be?" Jones repeated the magic formula to see the effect. "I am the Earl of Rochester."