which they entertained in common. As he had no personal
friendship to rely on in his hour of need, he resorted to that which had
grown up between men who had done their best to cheat each other by
systematic lying in the trading of horses.

"Old Man Coates," for that was the name by which the stable keeper was
known, found his way to the car where Mr. Belcher still remained hidden.
The two men met as old cronies, and Mr. Belcher said: "Coates, I'm in
trouble, and am bound for Canada. How is Old Calamity?"

Now in all old and well regulated stables there is one horse of
exceptional renown for endurance. "Old Calamity" was a roan, with one
wicked white eye, that in his best days had done a hundred miles in ten
hours. A great deal of money had been won and lost on him, first and
last, but he had grown old, and had degenerated into a raw-boned, tough
beast, that was resorted to in great emergencies, and relied upon for
long stretches of travel that involved extraordinary hardship.

"Well, he's good yet," replied Old Man Coates.

"You must sell him to me, with a light wagon," said Mr. Belcher.

"I could make more money by telling a man who is looking for you in the
hotel that you are here," said the old man, with a wicked leer.

"But you won't do it," responded the General. "You can't turn on a man
who has loved the same horse with you, old man; you know you can't."

"Well, I can, but in course I won't;" and the stable-keeper went into a
calculation of the value of the horse and harness, with a wagon "that
couldn't be broke down."

Old Man Coates had Belcher at a disadvantage, and, of course, availed
himself of it, and had no difficulty in making a bargain which reduced
the fugitive's stock of ready money in a fearful degree.

At half-past nine, that night, "Old Calamity" was driven down to the
side of the car by Coates' own hands, and in a moment the old man was
out of the wagon and the new owner was in it. The horse, the moment Mr.
Belcher took the reins, had a telegraphic communication concerning the
kind of man who was behind him, and the nature of the task that lay
before him, and struck off up the road toward Sevenoaks with a long,
swinging trot that gave the driver a sense of being lifted at every
stride.

It was a curious incident in the history of Mr. Belcher's flight to
Canada, which practically began when he leaped upon the deck of
Pilot-Boat Number 10, that he desired to see every spot that had been
c