Wildeve
had just thrown, but had not lifted the box to see what he had cast;
and now it was impossible.

"What the infernal!" he shrieked. "Now, what shall we do? Perhaps I
have thrown six--have you any matches?"

"None," said Venn.

"Christian had some--I wonder where he is. Christian!"

But there was no reply to Wildeve's shout, save a mournful whining
from the herons which were nesting lower down the vale. Both men
looked blankly round without rising. As their eyes grew accustomed to
the darkness they perceived faint greenish points of light among the
grass and fern. These lights dotted the hillside like stars of a low
magnitude.

"Ah--glowworms," said Wildeve. "Wait a minute. We can continue the
game."

Venn sat still, and his companion went hither and thither till he had
gathered thirteen glowworms--as many as he could find in a space of
four or five minutes--upon a foxglove leaf which he pulled for the
purpose. The reddleman vented a low humorous laugh when he saw his
adversary return with these. "Determined to go on, then?" he said
drily.

"I always am!" said Wildeve angrily. And shaking the glowworms from
the leaf he ranged them with a trembling hand in a circle on the
stone, leaving a space in the middle for the descent of the dice-box,
over which the thirteen tiny lamps threw a pale phosphoric shine. The
game was again renewed. It happened to be that season of the year at
which glowworms put forth their greatest brilliancy, and the light
they yielded was more than ample for the purpose, since it is possible
on such nights to read the handwriting of a letter by the light of two
or three.

The incongruity between the men's deeds and their environment was
great. Amid the soft juicy vegetation of the hollow in which they
sat, the motionless and the uninhabited solitude, intruded the chink
of guineas, the rattle of dice, the exclamations of the reckless
players.

Wildeve had lifted the box as soon as the lights were obtained, and
the solitary die proclaimed that the game was still against him.

"I won't play any more--you've been tampering with the dice," he
shouted.

"How--when they were your own?" said the reddleman.

"We'll change the game: the lowest point shall win the stake--it may
cut off my ill luck. Do you refuse?"

"No--go on," said Venn.

"O, there they are again--damn them!" cried Wildeve, looking up. The
heath-croppers had returned noiselessly, and were looking on with
erect heads