Adventure stories; England -- Fiction; Romanies -- Fiction
nearly a mile without obtaining a glimpse of the fellow, and was becoming
apprehensive that he had escaped me by turning down some by-path, two or
three of which I had passed. Suddenly, however, on the road making a
slight turning, I perceived him right before me, moving at a tolerably
swift pace, having by this time probably overcome the resistance of the
animal. Putting my horse to a full gallop, I shouted at the top of my
voice, "Get off that donkey, you rascal, and give her up to me, or I'll
ride you down." The fellow hearing the thunder of the horse's hoofs
behind him, drew up on one side of the road. "What do you want?" said
he, as I stopped my charger, now almost covered with sweat and foam close
beside him. "Do you want to rob me?" "To rob you?" said I. "No! but to
take from you that ass, of which you have just robbed its owner." "I
have robbed no man," said the fellow; "I just now purchased it fairly of
its master, and the law will give it to me; he asked six pounds for it,
and I gave him six pounds." "Six stones, you mean, you rascal," said I;
"get down, or my horse shall be upon you in a moment;" then with a motion
of my reins, I caused the horse to rear, pressing his sides with my heels
as if I intended to make him leap. "Stop," said the man, "I'll get down,
and then try if I can't serve you out." He then got down, and confronted
me with his cudgel; he was a horrible-looking fellow, and seemed prepared
for anything. Scarcely, however, had he dismounted, when the donkey
jerked the bridle out of his hand, and probably in revenge for the usage
she had received, gave him a pair of tremendous kicks on the hip with her
hinder legs, which overturned him, and then scampered down the road the
way she had come. "Pretty treatment this," said the fellow, getting up
without his cudgel, and holding his hand to his side, "I wish I may not
be lamed for life." "And if you be," said I, "it will merely serve you
right, you rascal, for trying to cheat a poor old man out of his property
by quibbling at words." "Rascal!" said the fellow, "you lie, I am no
rascal; and as for quibbling with words--suppose I did! What then? All
the first people does it! The newspapers does it! the gentlefolks that
calls themselves the guides of the popular mind does it! I'm no
ignoramus. I read the newspapers, and knows what's what." "You read
them to some purpose," said I. "Well, if you are lamed for life, and
unfitted for any active line--turn newspaper editor; I should say you are
perfectly qualified, and this day's adventure may be the foundation of
your fortune," thereupon I turned round and rode off. The fellow
followed me with a torrent of abuse. "Confound you," said he--yet that
was not the expression either--"I know you; you are one of the
horse-patrol come down into the country on leave to see your relations.
Confound you, you and the like of you have knocked my business on the
head near Lunnon, and I suppose we shall have you shortly in the
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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