Rodney Stone . ! they shouted. Give the Johnny Rawhis breakfast. Chuck him in among his own cin-ders. Sharps the word, or youll see the backof him. Encouraged by these cries, the young aristo-crat advanced upon his man. The smith nevermoved, but his mouth set grim and hard, whilehis tufted brows came down over his keen grayeyes. The tongs had fallen, and his hands werehanging free. Have a care, master, said he. Youll getpepper, if you dont. Something in the assured voice, and some-thing also in the quiet pose, warned the younglord of his danger. I saw him look hard at hisantagonist, and as he
Rodney Stone . ! they shouted. Give the Johnny Rawhis breakfast. Chuck him in among his own cin-ders. Sharps the word, or youll see the backof him. Encouraged by these cries, the young aristo-crat advanced upon his man. The smith nevermoved, but his mouth set grim and hard, whilehis tufted brows came down over his keen grayeyes. The tongs had fallen, and his hands werehanging free. Have a care, master, said he. Youll getpepper, if you dont. Something in the assured voice, and some-thing also in the quiet pose, warned the younglord of his danger. I saw him look hard at hisantagonist, and as he did so his hands and his jawdropped together. My God ! he cried. Its Jack Harrison! My name, master. And I thought you were some Sussex chaw-bacon ! Why, man, I havent seen you since theday you nearly killed Black Baruk, and cost mea cool hundred by doing it. How they roared on the coach ! Smoked! Smoked, by God! they yelled. Its Jack Harrison, the bruiser. Lord Fred-erick was going to take on the I saw him look hard at his antagonist. FRIARS OAK. 19 Give him one on the apron, Fred, and see whathappens. But the driver had already climbed back intohis perch, laughing as loudly as any of his com-panions. Well let you off this time, Harrison, saidhe. Are those your sons down there ? This is my nephew, master. Heres a guinea for him. He shall neversay I robbed hira of his uncle. And so, havingturned the laugh in his favour by his merry wayof taking it, he cracked bis whip, and away theyflew to make London under the five hours, whileJack Harrison, with his half-fullered shoe in hishand, went whistling back to his forge. CHAPTER II. THE WALKER OF CLIFFE ROYAL. So much for Champion Harrison! Now Iwish to say something more about Boy Jim, notonly because he was the comrade of my youth,but because you will find as you go on that thisbook is his story rather than mine, and that therecame a time when his name and his fame were inthe mouths of all England. You will bear withm
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