ds, who forthwith spurred his horse, hoping, by doing so, either to
break away from him or fling him down; but it would not do--the
plastramengro held on like a bull-dog, so that the Rommany chal, to
escape being hauled to the ground, suddenly flung himself off the saddle,
and then happened in that lane, close by the gate, such a struggle
between those two--the chal and the runner--as I suppose will never
happen again. But you must have heard of it; everyone has heard of it;
everyone has heard of the fight between the Bow Street engro and the
Rommany chal.'

'I never heard of it till now.'

'All England rung of it, brother. There never was a better match than
between those two. The runner was somewhat the stronger of the two--all
those engroes are strong fellows--and a great deal cooler, for all of
that sort are wondrous cool people--he had, however, to do with one who
knew full well how to take his own part. The chal fought the engro,
brother, in the old Roman fashion. He bit, he kicked, and screamed like
a wild cat of Benygant; casting foam from his mouth and fire from his
eyes. Sometimes he was beneath the engro's legs, and sometimes he was
upon his shoulders. What the engro found the most difficult was to get a
firm hold of the chal, for no sooner did he seize the chal by any part of
his wearing apparel, than the chal either tore himself away, or contrived
to slip out of it; so that in a little time the chal was three parts
naked; and as for holding him by the body, it was out of the question,
for he was as slippery as an eel. At last the engro seized the chal by
the Belcher's handkerchief, which he wore in a knot round his neck, and
do whatever the chal could, he could not free himself; and when the engro
saw that, it gave him fresh heart, no doubt: "It's of no use," said he;
"you had better give in; hold out your hands for the darbies, or I will
throttle you."

'And what did the other fellow do, who came with the chal?' said I.

'I sat still on my horse, brother.'

'You!' said I. 'Were you the man?'

'I was he, brother.'

'And why did you not help your comrade?'

'I have fought in the ring, brother.'

'And what had fighting in the ring to do with fighting in the lane?'

'You mean not fighting. A great deal, brother; it taught me to prize
fair play. When I fought Staffordshire Dick, t'other side of London, I
was alone, brother. Not a Rommany chal to back me, and he had all his
brother pals a