0 Reward"--and then followed a description of John
Barrington, which in every particular of height, age, look, and gesture,
seemed perfectly applicable to Talbot.

"Then, sorra one of me but would rather be tearing you down than putting
you up," said the bill-sticker, as with his arms folded leisurely on his
breast, and his ragged hat set sideways on his head, he apostrophized
his handiwork.

"And why so, my good fellow," said Mark, replying to the words. He
turned round rapidly, and pulling off his hat, exclaimed, in an accent
of unfeigned delight--"Tear-an-ages, captain, is it yourself? Och! och!
no," added he, in a tone of as great despondency--"it is the black horse
that deceived me. I beg your honor's pardon."

"And you know this horse," said Mark, with some anxiety of manner.

The bill-sticker made no answer, but carefully surveyed Mark, for a few
moments from head to foot, and then, as if not perfectly satisfied with
the result of his scrutiny, he slowly resumed the implements of his
trade, and prepared to move on.

"Stop a moment," said Mark, "I know what you mean, this horse
belonged to----" and he pointed with his whip to the name on the
placard. "Don't be afraid of me, then, for I am his friend, perhaps the
nearest friend he has in the world."

"Av you were his brother, you don't like him better than I do myself.
I'll never forget the night he got his head laid open for me on the
bridge there beyant. The polis wanted to take me up for a bit of a
ballad I was singing about Major Sirr, and they were hauling me along
through the gutter, and kicking me at every step, when up comes the
captain, and he sent one flying here, and the other flying there, and
he tripped up the chief, calling out to me the whole time, 'Run for it,
Dinny--run for it like a man; I'll give you five minutes fair start of
them any way.' And he kept his word, though one of them cut his forehead
clean down to the bone; and here I am now sticking up a reward to take
him, God pardon me"--and the poor fellow uttered the last words in a
voice of self-reproach, that actually brought the tears into his eyes.

Mark threw him a crown, and pressed on once more; but somehow the
convictions which resisted, before, were now shaken by this chance
meeting. The recognition of the horse at once identified Talbot with
Barrington, and although Mark rejected altogether any thought which
impugned the honour of his friend, he felt obliged to believe that, f