thought there must be a mistake somewhere: either he was not so strong as he had supposed or else the dwarf was uncommonly heavy. Twice or thrice he staggered and almost lost his footing. By the time he had got to the middle of the stream every muscle in his body ached, his legs trembled under him, and the sweat stood on his forehead. The water, too, rose high above his waist, and seemed to flow with unusual swiftness. If he had been carrying a sack of gold on his shoulders, instead of a dwarf, it could not have felt heavier.

'You're not tired?' asked the dwarf, as Raymond laid hold of a rock that rose partly out of the water and panted as if his lungs would burst.

'What on earth are you made of?' gasped the young man.

'Of all things conducive to worldly prosperity,' said the other, with his odd metallic chuckle. 'But now, as we are at the middle of the river, let us settle the terms of our bargain. I will give you my cap—you have wanted it ever since that day in the washing-room—in exchange for yours.' Having made this exchange (which Raymond was, of course, powerless to prevent his doing, even had he been so inclined), the dwarf continued: 'You now possess the most precious talisman in the world. By making a proper use of that cap you may reach any height of fortune. Does it fit you comfortably?'

'Not at all!' cried Raymond: 'it makes my head ache. Take it off again.'

'Pooh! my good Raymond, is not unbounded wealth worth a headache? Besides, you will get used to it after a while. Meantime listen to this couplet, which contains much wisdom in small space:—

Can you remember that?'

'What if I can?' groaned Raymond, clinging to the rock. 'We shall both be drowned in another minute!'

'Not at all,' answered the dwarf with composure. 'My left foot is a trifle wet; but what of that? By-the-by, I shall be passing through Honeymead again this evening; shall I drop in at the Brindled Cow and tell Rosamund that you are all right?'

'I am not all right. I wish I were at the Brindled Cow myself.'

'Tut! tut! Ambition should not be so easily damped. Well, I'll make a point of calling on the young lady. But, stay; I must carry some token to prove that I am an authorised messenger. What shall it be? Ah! this will do—this half of a spade guinea that you wear at your neck. Permit me to remove it,' And he began to fumble with the silken string.

'Stop! that is my betrothal pledge—you can't have that!' cried Raymond, putting up his hand to withhold the dwarf's claw.

'And who was it gave it to you, in the first place, I should like to know?' exclaimed the dwarf tartly. 'Fie! have you so little confidence in your friends? It is for your own good that I must have the token. Give it me at once.'

The place in which this discussion was carried on was so inconvenient to Raymond, he was getting so exhausted, both in body and mind, and the dwarf had spoken the last sentence so imperiously, that Raymond thought he had better yield. Moreover, the yellow cap squeezed his brain just in those places where the proper arguments lay, and thus prevented his using them. The end of it was that he said—

'I suppose you'd better take it, but——'

He never finished his sentence. The dwarf whipped the silken string over his head, and the golden pledge was gone. The next moment Raymond was floundering headlong in the stream. How he reached the opposite bank he never knew—he seemed to be under the water half the time. At last he got his hands on a bush growing beside the margin and pulled himself out.

Where was the dwarf? He had vanished. Had he fallen off and been drowned? What was that echo of a metallic chuckle in the air? Raymond groaned and pressed his hands to his aching head, on which the yellow cap stuck fast.

CHAPTER IV.

THE TALISMAN.

After a while he got up and looked about him. The river was much swollen, and was hurrying past its banks with such fury that it was useless to think of returning as he had come. No, he must go on. His head was confused, so that he could not think clearly about Honeymead, and still less about Rosamund. She seemed far away and indistinct. Did she love him? Did he love her? At all events, it was better to fix his mind on London now. He looked thither, but the clouds had gathered over the sky, and the sunlight no longer gleamed upon the golden pinnacles. The city did not seem so alluring as from the other side of the river. However, time was flying, and London was seven miles away. Raymond set forth.

By and by he came to a milestone, on which he sat down to rest, and to wonder how he was to make his fortune in London when he got there. It was true that he had a talisman, but how was that to help him? A yellow cap! It was, indeed, woven of golden thread, and might be sold for a guinea; but a guinea was not a kingdom. Meanwhile the cap made his head ache so that he pulled it off. It was certainly a fine cap. It was lined with the best yellow satin, and a peacock's feather was stuck in the band. On the band some letters were embroidered. Raymond spelt them out, and found that they made the following couplet:—