ve a notion on it, have ye not?" said Reuben, with a twinkle
which was intended to flatter Matthew into a communicative spirit.

"I reckon I hev," said the weaver, with a look of self-satisfaction.

"Did Ralph understand it?" asked Monsey.

"Not he, schoolmaister. If he did, I could mak' nowt on him, for I
asked him theer and then."

"But ye knows yersel' what the warrant meant, don't ye?" said Reuben
significantly.

"Weel, man, it's all as I telt ye; the country's going to the dogs,
and young Charles he's cutting the heed off nigh a'most iv'ry man as
fought for Oliver agen him. And it's as I telt ye aboot the spies of
the government, there's a spy ivrywhear--maybe theer's yan here
now--and auld Wilson he was nowt ner mair ner less ner a spy, and he
meant to get a warrant for Ralph Ray, and that's the lang and short on
it."

"I reckon Sim made _the_ short on it," said Reuben with a smirk. "He
scarce knew what a good turn he was doing for young Ralph yon neet in
Martinmas."

"But don't they say Ralph saved Wilson's life away at the wars?" said
Monsey. "Why could he want to inform against him and have him hanged?"

"A dog winnet yowl an ye hit him with a bone, but a spy is worse ner
ony dog," answered Matthew sententiously.

"But _why_ could he wish to do it?"

"His fratch with Angus, that was all."

"There must have been more than that, Matthew, there must."

"I never heeard on it, then."

"Old Wilson must have had money on him that night," said Monsey, who
had been looking gravely into the fire, his hands clasped about his
knees. Encouraged by this support of the sapient idea he had hinted
at, the shepherd who had spoken before broke in with, "Where else did
he get it _I_ say?"

"Ye breed of the cuckoo," said Matthew, "ye've gat no rhyme but yan."

Amid the derisive laughter that followed, the door of the inn was
again opened, and in a moment more Ralph Ray stood in the middle of
the floor with Simeon Stagg in his arms. Rotha was behind, pale but
composed. Every man in the room rose to his feet. The landlord stepped
forward, with no pleasant expression on his face; and from an inner
room his wife came bustling up. Little Monsey stood clutching and
twitching his fingers. Old Matthew had let the pipe drop out of his
mouth, and it lay broken on the hearth.

"He has fainted," said Ralph, still holding his burden; "turn that
bench to the fire."

No one stirred. Every one stood for the moment as if stupe