lthwaite to look for you," said Robbie. "They told
me you'd taken the hills for it, so I followed on."

"You look troubled, my lad," said Ralph; "has anything happened to
you?"

"No, Ralph, but something may happen to you if you don't heed me what
I say."

"Nothing that will trouble me much, Robbie--nothing of that kind can
happen now."

"Yon gommarel of a Joe Garth, the blacksmith, has never forgotten the
thrashing you gave him years ago for killing your dog--Laddie's mother
that was."

"No, he'll never forgive me; but what of that? I've not looked for his
forgiveness."

"But, I'm afeared, Ralph, he means to pay you back more than four to
the quarter. Do you know he has spies lodging with him? They've come
down here to take you off. Joe has been at the Red Lion this
morning--drunk, early as it is. He blurted it out about the spies, so
I ran off to find you."

"It isn't Joe that has done the mischief, my lad, though the spies, or
whatever they are, may pay him to play underspy while it serves their
turn."

"Joe or not Joe, they mean to take you the first chance. Folks say
everything has got upside down with the laws and the country now that
the great man himself is dead. Hadn't you best get off somewhere?

"It was good of you, Robbie, to warn me; but I can't leave home yet;
my father must be buried, you know."

"Ah!" said Robbie in an altered tone, "poor Angus!"

Ralph looked closely at his companion, and thought of Robbie's
question last night in the inn.

"Tell me," he said, glancing searchingly into Robbie's eyes, "did you
know anything about old Wilson's death?"

The young dalesman seemed abashed. He dropped his head, and appeared
unable to look up.

"Tell me, Robbie; I know much already."

"I took the money," said the young man; "I took it, but I threw it
into the beck the minute after."

"How was it, lad? Let me know."

Robbie was still standing, with his head down, pawing the ground as he
said,--

"I'd been drinking hard--you know that. I was drunk yon night, and I
hadn't a penny in my pouch. On my way home from the inn I lay down in
the dike and fell asleep. I was awakened by the voices of two men
quarrelling. You know who they were. Old Wilson was waving a paper
over his head and laughing and sneering. Then the other snatched it
away. At that Wilson swore a dreadful oath, and flung himself on--the
other. It was all over in a moment. He'd given the little waistrel the
cross-buttock, an