322 MEMORIES OF MEN AND HORSES 



wrapped round my head, turbanwise. A gay-flowered 

 dressing-gown was the top covering, and, to crown all, 

 a pair of trousers tied round the neck, the rearmost 

 part of which garments hung down behind, like some 

 peculiar hood. 



"Jack" tied round his head and ears a red spotted 

 handkerchief, and was further draped in a flannel cricket 

 suit, the shirt, however, being worn outside the trousers 

 and a belt put over all. He had a red spotted handker- 

 chief tied under his chin. 



Needless to say, in such absurd garments we should 

 have been stopped by the police, had there been any on 

 the spot, but there were none in those happy days. 



In this ridiculous guise we stood in the old Coxwold 

 Vicarage in my room, when the Rev. George Scott 

 rest his soul ! had seen the household upstairs, bolted 

 every door and entirely secured the establishment. 



Slumber reigned supreme, save in my room, where 

 my elder friend was nervous of some mishap, but " Jack " 

 and I had no fear. The window was an old-fashioned 

 one, divided into three separate parts, each part being, 

 as may be supposed, somewhat narrow. The rope was 

 fastened round one of the upright columns of the frame, 

 which was very solid. The right-hand sash was drawn 

 up, that being the side from which the egress had to 

 be made so as to descend on to soft grass and miss the 

 hard gravel walk. It was a dark night and my elder 

 friend looked out and shuddered. 



" Now then," said I, " have you got the matches, 

 'Jack'?" 



"Yes." 



" And I've got the flasks of powder and the touch- 

 paper. There's nothing else ? 



