“He hath a spur in his head,” said Billy Norman to himself, as Cuddle disappeared down the road; “I hope nought but good may happen him; for he's one of the right sort, if he had it.” The roads were dry and hard, the air serene, and Billy stood listening, for a few minutes, to the sounds of the horse's feet; he soon felt convinced, by the cadences, that Caddy Cuddle was increasing, rather than diminishing, his speed. The beat of the hoofs became, at length, barely audible; it gradually died away; and Norman was going in to light his pipe, when he thought he heard the sounds again. He put his hand behind his ear, held his breath, and, in a few moments, felt satisfied that Caddy Cuddle had taken the wrong turning, and was working back, by a circular route, toward Caddy Castle again. As he approached nearer, Norman began to entertain apprehensions that Cuddle's horse had run away with him, in consequence of the violent pace, at which, it was clear, from the sound of its feet, that the animal was going. Norman stepped off the pathway into the road, and prepared to hail Cuddle, as he passed, and ascertain, if possible, what really was the matter. The horse and his rider came on nearly at full speed, and Norman shouted, with all his might,--“Holloa! hoy! stop!” “I carry arms! I carry arms!” cried Cuddle, urging his horse forward with all his might. “Zauns!” exclaimed Norman, “he takes I for a highwayman!--He must ha' mistook the road, that's certain; the horse can't ha' run away wi' un, or a'uldn't kick un so.--Sailor, you be out o' your latitude.” The circle, which Caddy Cuddle had made, was about two miles in circumference: he went precisely in the same direction again, without, in the least, suspecting his error; and having, as he thought, mastered four miles of his road homeward, and given his horse a tolerable breathing, he began to pull up by degrees, as he, for the second time, approached the little rustic lodge of Caddy Park, from which he had issued at his departure. Norman again hailed him, for he felt tolerably satisfied that Caddy carried no other arms than those with which Nature had endowed him. Caddy now knew the voice, and pulled up:--“Who's there?” said he; “A friend, I think; for I remember your tone.--Who are you, honest man?” “Heaven help us, Mr. Cuddle!” exclaimed Norman, “Are'ee mad, sir, or how?” “Why, nipperkins! Norman, is it you?” “Ay, truly.” “And how got you here?--I thought nothing had passed me on the road. Where are you going, honest Norman?” “Going!--I be going no-where,” replied the gate-keeper; “I be here, where you left me. Why, doant'ee know, that you ha' been working round and round, just like a horse in a mill?--And after all this helter-skelter work, here you be, just where you were!” “D--n the spectacles, then!” said Cuddle; “and confound all innovators!--Why couldn't they let the country alone?--I've taken the wrong turning, I suppose?”