lly jolly
too,' said Justin. 'I suppose when you're a man you won't hunt, Pat, for
fear you should be in at the death.'

'Hunting's different,' said Pat. 'There's all the jolliness of the
riding. And shooting's different. There's the cleverness of aiming well,
and papa says that when a bird's killed straight off, it's the easiest
death it could have.'

'It's bad shots that make them suffer most,' said Archie. 'But I say,
Jus, where are you going to. It must be nearly six. Have you finished
your lessons?'

'Mind your own business,' said Justin, 'I'm not going in just yet, to be
mewed up with Miss Ward in the schoolroom. I want a run across the moor
first.'

To this neither of his brothers made any objection. There was one point
in common among all the Hervey boys, and that was love, enthusiastic
love, of their moor--its great stretch, its delicious, breezy air, the
thousand and one interests they found in it, from its ever-changing
colouring, its curious varieties of moss, and heather, and strange
little creeping plants, to be found nowhere else, to the dark, silent
pools on its borders, with their quaint frequenters; everything in and
about and above the moor--for where were such sunsets, or marvellous
cloud visions to be seen as here?--had a charm and fascination never
equalled to them in later life by other scenes, however striking and
beautiful.

Pat felt all this the most deeply perhaps, but all the others too, even
careless Archie, and Justin, rough schoolboy though he was, loved the
moor as a sailor loves the sea.

This evening the sunset had been very beautiful, and the colours were
still lingering about the horizon as the boys ran along one of the
little white paths towards the west.

'It's a pity Miss Mouse can't see it just now,' said Archie suddenly.
'She's a jolly little girl. I liked her for liking the moor. The next
time she comes we can take her a good way across it, as far as Bob
Crag's; she'd like to see the queer cottage.'

'I bet you she'd be frightened of old Nance,' said Justin, with some
contempt, 'she'd think her a witch; girls are always so fanciful.'

'_You_ can't know much about girls,' said Pat. 'I'm sure Miss Mouse
isn't silly. If she did think Nance a witch she'd like her all the
better. You heard what she said about fairy stories.'

'Fairy rubbish,' said Justin. 'I believe you were meant to be a girl
yourself, Pat.'

Pat reddened, but, wonderful to say, did not lose his tempe