ony Mr. Fogo gained the hedge, tore
up it, turned, saw the brute appear above the ridge with a wreck of
silk and steel upon his horns, and with a sob of thankfulness dropped
over into the next field.

But alas! in doing so Mr. Fogo performed the common feat of leaping
out of the frying-pan into the fire. For it happened that on the
other side a tramp was engaged in his legitimate occupation of
sleeping under a hedge, and on his extended body our hero rudely
descended.

"Hi!" said the tramp, "where be you a-comin' to?"

Mr. Fogo picked himself up and felt for his spectacles; they had
tumbled off in his flight, and without them his face presented a
curiously naked appearance. The alarum in his pocket had stopped
suddenly with the jerk of his descent.

"I beg your pardon," he mildly apologised, "but a bull in the next
field--"

"That's no cause for selectin' a gentl'm'n's stomach to tumble 'pon,
growled the tramp.

"I beg your pardon, I'm sure," repeated Mr. Fogo; "you may be sure
that had time for selection been allowed me--"

"Look 'ere," said the tramp with sudden ferocity, "will you fight?"

[Illustration: "Look 'ere," said the tramp . . . "will you fight?"]

Mr. Fogo retreated a step.

"Really--"

"Come, look sharp! You won't? Then I demands 'arf-a-crown."

With this the ruffian began to tuck up his ragged cuffs, and was
grimly advancing. Mr. Fogo leapt back another pace.

"_Cl'k--Whir-r-r-r-roo-oo-oo!_"

This time the alarum was his salvation. The tramp pulled up, gave a
hasty terrified stare, and with a cry of "The Devil!" made off across
the field as fast as his legs would carry him. Overcome with the
emotions of the last few minutes Mr. Fogo sat suddenly down, and the
alarum ceased.

When he recovered he found himself in an awkward predicament.
He knew of but one way homewards, and that was guarded by the bull;
moreover, if he attempted to find another road he was hampered by the
loss of his spectacles, without which he could not see a yard before
his nose.

However, anything was better than facing the bull again; so he arose,
picked the brambles out of his clothing, and started cautiously
across the field.

As luck would have it he found a gate; but another field followed,
and a third, into which he had to climb by the hedge. And here he
suffered from a tendency known to all mountaineers who have lost
their way in a mist; unconsciously he began to trend away towards the
left,