“I’ll do it!” he exclaimed, starting up with animation, and looking in the direction of the moor. The pursuers were now pretty close to him. They panted much and ran very heavily. A quiet smile lit up Kenneth’s countenance, for he felt his strength recruited even with the few minutes’ rest he had obtained.
“Now, then, let the memory of Eton days come over me,” he muttered, as he tied his pocket-handkerchief tightly round his waist.
Pulling his hat firmly down over his brows, he prepared to start, just as the policemen and the gentlemanly burglar stumbled on to the road, in a state of complete exhaustion, and covered from head to foot with mud!
Kenneth could not repress a cheer as he waved his hat to them and shouted farewell.
He then turned, and, stooping low, sped over the country like a greyhound.
He had not gone above four miles when he overtook a stout countryman in a smock-frock and slouch-hat plodding heavily along the road.
A new idea flashed into Kenneth’s mind. He resolved to change costumes with this man; but felt that he had no time to waste in talking over the subject or explaining why he wanted to do so. He therefore stopped abruptly when close to him, and said—
“My man, I’ve a fancy for your clothes.”
“You’ll ha’ to foight for ’em then.”
“Very well, begin at once,” said Kenneth, buttoning his coat, and suddenly seizing the countryman by the throat with a grip that made his eyes almost start out of their sockets. “How shall it be, wrestling or fisticuffs? But let me advise you to do it at once without fighting, for I don’t want to hurt you, and I do mean to have your clothes. Besides, I’ll give you mine in exchange. There now, strip!”