where he knew of an inn, and he wanted to get there before
the people went to bed. He would not admit that he shrank from being
left in the dark when the moon sank.

By and by Pete stopped to relight his pipe and uttered an exclamation
when he put his hand in his pocket.

"I hae lost the guid pooch ye gave me at Hexham," he said. "I mind I
filled my pipe by the big thorn where the wire fence stops, and the
moon's on the road. If ye'll bide or gang on slowly, I'll rin back."

"Never mind it. I'll give you another."

"Na," said Pete. "If ye had been used with an auld tin and had a
smairt pooch for the first time, ye wouldna' lea' it in the road.
Besides, it was fu' o' a better tobacco than I often smoke."

Foster would sooner have kept him, but was unwilling to admit that he
did not like to be alone. It was not very far to the thorn tree and
Pete would soon overtake him. He went on, but did not loiter, and
noted how his footsteps echoed along the edge of a wood ahead. In
fact, the noise he made rather jarred his nerves, but the grass by the
roadside was hummocky and wet. The road was dark beside the wood, for
the moon was near the tops of the black firs, but there were gaps
through which the silver light shone down.

As he passed the first of the trees he heard a rattle of wings and
stopped abruptly. Wood-pigeons were fluttering among the branches, and
if he had not disturbed them, there was somebody in the wood. After a
few moments, the sound died away, but he stood listening. He could not
hear Pete coming, and was sorry he had let him go; the road looked
lonely, and he knew there was no house for some distance. Still, if he
had not frightened the pigeons, it might be unsafe to stay where he
was, and he did not mean to turn back. It was better to be cautious,
but he must not give his imagination rein.

Bracing his courage, he went on, a little faster than before but
without hurrying, and for two or three minutes heard no fresh noise.
The wood ran along the road for perhaps a quarter of a mile and he was
near the middle of it when there was a sharp report and something
flicked against the wall behind him. He sprang aside instinctively,
and then running forward smashed through the rotten fence and plunged
into the wood. The nervous shrinking he had felt had gone. Now he was
confronted with a danger that was not imaginary, he was conscious of
savage anger and a fierce desire to come to grips with his