hiding money, and we are used to such tales as yours. Where is your
companion, young man?"

"Nay, I have no companion," answered Cuthbert, who was sufficiently
imbued with the spirit of his father's creed not to hesitate for a
moment to utter an untruth in a good cause, and think no shame of
it; "I am journeying forth to London alone, to seek a relative
there, who methinks will help me to earn an honest livelihood. I
would I were the rich man you take me for. But even the dress I
wear is mine through the charity of a kinsman, as is also the nag I
ride. And I misdoubt me if you would find him of much use to you in
your occupation."

One or two of the men laughed. They looked at Dobbin and then at
his rider, and seemed to give credence to this tale. Cuthbert's
boyish face and fearless manner seemed to work in his favour, and
one of the band remarked that he was a bold young blade, and if in
search of a fortune, might do worse than cast in his lot with them.

"Yet I verily thought there had been two," grumbled another of the
band; "I wonder if he speaks sooth."

"I warrant me he does, else where should the other be? It was a
trick of the moonlight; it often deceives us so.

"Come now, my young cockerel; you can crow lustily, it seems, and
keep a bold face where others shrink and tremble and flee. How say
you? will you follow us to our lodging place for the night? And if
we find no money concealed about you, and if your story of your
poverty be true, you can think well whether you will choose to cast