Jack ceased shouting, realizing that he was doing exactly what the highwayman wanted. He was being used as bait to draw the others. At the end of the street, his captors frogmarched him west towards the cattle market and on to the outskirts of town where a wooden arena had been constructed. Spectators sat on tiered benches, shouting, clapping and cheering. From down in the pit itself there arose a violent cacophony of barks, yelps, growls and roars.

‘Do you like blood sports, Jack?’ asked Rakesby, as he and his gang pushed to the front, ensuring Jack had a good view. Towards one side of the arena a post had been driven into the ground to which a huge bear had been chained. The creature, bloodied and fierce, gave a gut-wrenching roar as she tore with her claws at four muscled dogs attacking her. The dogs, their jaws dripping with saliva, snapped and bit into the flesh of the chained bear, even as they were clawed and bitten themselves.

‘I so admire mastiffs,’ Rakesby went on, not waiting for Jack to answer. ‘Despite being mauled by the bear, they never give in. That’s true fighting spirit.’

‘Although it’s not really a fair fight, when the bear’s chained and her teeth blunted,’ Jack observed bitterly. Trapped by Rakesby’s gang, he felt as chained as the poor bear.

‘Never underestimate the bear!’ warned Rakesby, wagging a finger. ‘For they are formidable warriors. How can you not admire their sheer power? See how this one crushes that dog at the neck!’

The mastiff in question gave a pained yelp, then fell limp. The bear tossed it away just as another leapt on her back. She twisted and tumbled in a wild effort to dislodge the beast. Jack looked away, sickened at the spectacle. All round the arena spectators were feverishly placing bets on the outcome of the fight. He could never understand how some people could take pleasure in seeing one poor beast tear and kill another for the sake of mere entertainment.

‘Why have you brought me here?’ demanded Jack, as the bear finished off a bulldog.

‘We’ve come to make a bet,’ the upright-man replied with a fiendish grin.

‘New dogs!’ yelled the pit owner, a fat man with heavy jowls and a sweat-stained shirt, rolled up at the sleeves.

Rakesby raised a hand. ‘I’ve a fresh dog for the pit.’

The owner glanced over, questioning with his rheumy eyes. ‘Let’s see if it’s worthy, then.’