“Just sufficiently sunburned, perfect in manner, full of information, humor- ous and original in conversation, and with all the ‘prestige’ of the unknown, small wonder that ‘The Captain’ was regarded as a prize, socially considered, and introduced right and left. Ha! ha! What a most excellent jest, albeit rather keen, as far as Sir Ferdinand is concerned! We shall never, never cease to recall the humorous side of the whole affair. Why, we ourselves, our august editorial self, actually had a bet in the stand with the audacious pretender, and won it, too. Did he pay up? Of course he did. A ‘pony,’ to wit, and on the nail. He does nothing by halves, ‘notre capitaine.’ We have been less promptly reimbursed, indeed, not paid at all, by gentlemen boasting a fairer record. How graciously he smiled and bowed as, with his primrose kid gloves, he disengaged the two tenners and a five-pound note from his well-filled receptacle.

“The last time we had seen him was in the dock at Nomah, being tried in the great cattle case, that ‘cause célèbre.’ To do him justice, he was quite as cool and unconcerned there, and looked as if he was doing the amateur casual business without ulterior liabilities.

“Adieu! fare thee well, Starlight, bold Rover of the Waste; we feel inclined to echo the lament of the ancient Lord Douglas-

“Tis pity of him, too,’ he cried;

Bold can he speak, and fairly ride;

I warrant him a warrior tried.’

It is in the interests of justice, doubtless, that thou be hunted down, and expiate by death-doom the crimes which thou and thy myrmidons have com mitted against society in the sight of God and man. But we cannot, for the life of us, take a keen interest in thy capture. We owe thee much, Starlight; many a slashing leader, many a spicy paragraph, many a stately reflection on contemporary morals hast thou furnished us with. Shall we haste to the slaughter of the rarest bird—golden ovaried? We trow not. Get thee to the wilderness, and repent thee of thy sins, Why should we judge thee? Thou hast, if such dubious donation may avail, an editor’s blessing. Depart, and ‘stick up’ no more.”

“Well done, the Turon Star!” says Starlight, after he read it all out. “I call that very fair. There’s a flavour of good feeling underneath much of that nonsense, as well as of porter and oysters. It does a fellow a deal more good than slanging him to believe that he’s human after all, and that men think so.”

“Do you reckon that chap was sober when he wrote that?” says father. “Blest if I can make head or tail of it. Half what them fellows puts down is regular rot. Why couldn’t he have cut it a bit shorter, too?”

Chapter XLIV

CHAPTER XLIV