But now, with a nod to the figure who had stopped him, and with another inquiring glance at myself, the big man once more put his steed into motion, and after riding round the ring a few more times, darted through a lane in the crowd, and followed by his two companions, disappeared; whereupon the figure who had whispered to him, and had subsequently remained in the middle of the space, came towards me, and cracking a whip which he held in his hand so loudly that the report was nearly equal to that of a pocket-pistol, he cried in a strange tone:—­

“What! the sap-engro?  Lor! the sap-engro upon the hill!”

“I remember that word,” said I, “and I almost think I remember you.  You can’t be—­”

“Jasper, your pal!  Truth, and no lie, brother.”

“It is strange that you should have known me,” said I.  “I am certain, but for the word you used, I should never have recognized you.”

“Not so strange as you may think, brother:  there is something in your face which would prevent people from forgetting you, even though they might wish it; and your face is not much altered since the time you wot of, though you are so much grown.  I thought it was you, but to make sure I dodged about, inspecting you.  I believe you felt me, though I never touched you; a sign, brother, that we are akin, that we are dui palor—­two relations.  Your blood beat when mine was near, as mine always does at the coming of a brother; and we became brothers in that lane.”

“And where are you staying?” said I:  “in this town?”

“Not in the town; the like of us don’t find it exactly wholesome to stay in towns:  we keep abroad.  But I have little to do here—­come with me, and I’ll show you where we stay.”

We descended the hill in the direction of the north, and passing along the suburb reached the old Norman bridge, which we crossed; the chalk precipice, with the ruin on its top, was now before us; but turning to the left we walked swiftly along, and presently came to some rising ground, which ascending, we found ourselves upon a wild moor or heath.

“You are one of them,” said I, “whom people call—­”

“Just so,” said Jasper; “but never mind what people call us.”

“And that tall handsome man on the hill, whom you whispered:  I suppose he’s one of ye.  What is his name?”

“Tawno Chikno,” said Jasper, “which means the small one; we call him such because he is the biggest man of all our nation.  You say he is handsome—­that is not the word, brother; he’s the beauty of the world.  Women run wild at the sight of Tawno.  An earl’s daughter, near London—­a fine young lady with diamonds round her neck—­fell in love with Tawno.  I have seen that lass on a heath, as this may be, kneel down to Tawno, clasp his feet, begging to be his wife—­or anything else—­if she might go with him.  But Tawno would have nothing to do with her:  ’I have a wife of my own,’ said he, ’a lawful Romany wife, whom I love better than the whole world, jealous though she sometimes be.’”