e foremost man came to the gate, reached at the hank, undid it, and
rode through, holding it open for the other. Before, however, the other
could follow into the lane, out bolted the plastramengro from behind the
tree, kicked the gate too with his foot, and, seizing the big man on
horseback, 'You are my prisoner,' said he. I am of opinion, brother,
that plastramengro, notwithstanding he went to sleep, must have been a
regular fine fellow."

"I am entirely of your opinion," said I; "but what happened then?"

"Why, brother, the Rommany chal, after he had somewhat recovered from his
surprise, for it is rather uncomfortable to be laid hold of at
night-time, and told you are a prisoner; more especially when you happen
to have two or three things on your mind, which, if proved against you,
would carry you to the nashky. The Rommany chal, I say, clubbed his
whip, and aimed a blow at the plastramengro, which, if it had hit him on
the skull, as was intended, would very likely have cracked it. The
plastramengro, however, received it partly on his staff, so that it did
him no particular damage. Whereupon seeing what kind of customer he had
to deal with, he dropped his staff, and seized the chal with both his
hands, 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 bulldog, 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; every one 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
these 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 c