ing the remainder of that night the "chunk of ebony" followed Mr
Bones like his shadow. When he went down to the small public-house of
the hamlet to moisten his throat with a glass of beer, the negro boy
waited for him behind a hay-stack; when he left the public-house, and
took his way towards Rosebud Cottage, the boy walked a little behind
him--not far behind, for the night was dark. When, on consulting his
watch, with the aid of a match, Bones found that his time for action had
not arrived and sat down by the side of a hedge to meditate, the chunk
crept through a hole in the same hedge, crawled close up like a panther,
lay down in the grass on the other side, and listened. But he heard
nothing, for the burglar kept his thoughts, whatever they might have
been, to himself. The hour was too still, the night too dark, the scene
too ghostly for mutterings. Peering through the hedge, which was high
and thick, the boy could see the red glow of Mr Bones's pipe.

Suddenly it occurred to Pax that now was a favourable opportunity to
test his plan. The hedge between him and his victim was impassable to
any one larger than himself; on his side the ground sloped towards a
plantation, in which he could easily find refuge if necessary. There
was no wind. Not a leaf stirred. The silence was profound--broken only
by the puffing of the burglar's lips. Little Pax was quick to conceive
and act. Suddenly he opened his mouth to its widest, took aim where he
thought the ear of Bones must be, and uttered a short, sharp, appalling
yell, compared to which a shriek of martyrdom must have been as nothing.

That the effect on Bones was tremendous was evinced by the squib-like
action of his pipe, as it flew into the air, and the stumbling clatter
of his feet, as he rushed blindly from the spot. Little Pax rolled on
the grass in indescribable ecstasies for a few seconds, then crept
through the hole, and followed his victim.

But Bones was no coward. He had only been taken by surprise, and soon
stopped. Still, he was sufficiently superstitious to look frequently
over his shoulder as he walked in the direction of Miss Stivergill's
Cottage.

Pax was by that time on familiar ground. Fearing that Bones was not to
be scared from his purpose by one fright, he made a detour, got ahead of
him, and prepared to receive him near the old well of an adjoining farm,
which stood close by the road. When the burglar's footsteps became
audible, he b