So, watching his opportunity, he vaulted into his saddle, and shot off like an arrow.

Up went the roar of laughter from Von Pilsen and the hunters: up went the roar of fury from the butchers and their boys: in the twinkling of an eye all were giving chase; showers of stones sang through the trees; threats of vengeance were in his ears; butchers' dogs were at his horse's heels; butchers' curses were on the wind; a widow's cries hung upon his flight.

The hunters joined in the pursuit; a second chase was before them; Mr.Pilsen had furnished them a second game.

Again did Mr.Schnackenberger perspire exceedingly; once again did Mr.Schnackenberger 'funk' enormously; yet, once again did Mr.Schnackenberger shiver at the remembrance of the Golden Sow, and groan at the name of Sweetbread.

He retained, however, presence of mind enough to work away at his spurs incessantly; nor ever once turned his head until he reached the city gates, which he entered at the _pas de charge_, thanking heaven that he was better mounted than on his first arrival at B----..