At that I drew my breath again, and thanked God I had gotten my coat on.

‘Squire is right,’ said Charlie, who was standing up high (on a root perhaps), ‘there is nobody there now, captain; and lucky for the poor devil that he keepeth workman’s hours. Even his chopper is gone, I see.’

‘No dog, no man, is the rule about here, when it comes to coppice work,’ continued young de Whichehalse; there is not a man would dare work there, without a dog to scare the pixies.’

‘There is a big young fellow upon this farm,’ Carver Doone muttered sulkily, ‘with whom I have an account to settle, if ever I come across him. He hath a cursed spite to us, because we shot his father. He was going to bring the lumpers upon us, only he was afeared, last winter. And he hath been in London lately, for some traitorous job, I doubt.’

‘Oh, you mean that fool, John Ridd,’ answered the young squire; ‘a very simple clod-hopper. No treachery in him I warrant; he hath not the head for it. All he cares about is wrestling. As strong as a bull, and with no more brains.’

‘A bullet for that bull,’ said Carver; and I could see the grin on his scornful face; ‘a bullet for ballast to his brain, the first time I come across him.’

‘Nonsense, captain! I won’t have him shot, for he is my old school-fellow, and hath a very pretty sister. But his cousin is of a different mould, and ten times as dangerous.’

‘We shall see, lads, we shall see,’ grumbled the great black-bearded man. ‘Ill bodes for the fool that would hinder me. But come, let us onward. No lingering, or the viper will be in the bush from us. Body and soul, if he give us the slip, both of you shall answer it.’

‘No fear, captain, and no hurry,’ Charlie answered gallantly, ‘would I were as sure of living a twelvemonth as he is of dying within the hour! Extreme unction for him in my bullet patch. Remember, I claim to be his confessor, because he hath insulted me.’

‘Thou art welcome to the job for me,’ said Marwood, as they turned away, and kept along the hedge- row; ‘I love to meet a man sword to sword; not to pop at him from a foxhole.’

What answer was made I could not hear, for by this time the stout ashen hedge was between us, and no other gap to be found in it, until at the very bottom, where the corner of the copse was. Yet I was not quit of danger now; for they might come through that second gap, and then would be sure to see me, unless I crept into the uncut thicket, before they could enter the clearing. But in spite of all my fear, I was not wise enough to do that. And in truth the words of Carver Doone had filled me with such anger, knowing what I did about him and his pretence to Lorna; and the sight of Squire Marwood, in such outrageous company, had so moved my curiosity, and their threats against some unknown person so aroused my pity, that much of my prudence was forgotten, or at least the better part of courage, which loves danger at long distance.

Therefore, holding fast my bill-hook, I dropped myself very quietly into the bed of the runnel, being resolved to take my chance of their entrance at the corner, where the water dived through the hedge-row. And so I followed them down the fence, as gently as a rabbit goes, only I was inside it, and they on the outside; but yet so near that I heard the branches rustle as they pushed them.

Perhaps I had never loved ferns so much as when I came to the end of that little gully, and stooped betwixt two patches of them, now my chiefest shelter, for cattle had been through the gap just there, in quest of fodder and coolness, and had left but a mound of trodden earth between me and the outlaws. I mean at least on my left hand (upon which side they were), for in front where the brook ran out of the copse was a good stiff hedge of holly. And now I prayed Heaven to lead them straight on; for if they