of a secret society which forces them to do
these cruel wrongs."

It must have been intentional on his part, for as I went down into the
furnace house about half an hour after, at my usual time, to take down
an account of work done, I met Stevens coming towards me.

We were in the big empty building, the furnace being cold, and no work
going on that day, and he slouched towards me as if he were going by,
but I stopped him and held out my hand.

"Thank you, Stevens," I said. "I didn't understand it then, but you
saved me from something terrible to-day."

He gave a quick glance or two about, and then regularly snatched my
hand, gave it a squeeze, and threw it away.

"All right, my lad!" he said in a hoarse whisper. "You're on'y one o'
the mesters, but I couldn't abear to see thee in for it too."

He went on his away and I went mine, feeling that Uncle Jack was right,
and that though it might be a long journey first, it was the beginning
of the end.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

I START FOR A WALK.

"Who's for a walk?" said Uncle Dick one morning. "I'm going up the
hills to the millstone-grit quarry."

I started, and my heart gave a throb, but I did not look up.

"I can't go," said Uncle Jack.

"And I'm busy," said Uncle Bob.

"Then I shall have to put up with Cob," said Uncle Dick gloomily. "Will
you come, my lad?"

"Will I come!" I cried, jumping and feeling as if I should like to
shout for joy, so delightful seemed the idea of getting away into the
hills, and having one of our old walks.

"Well, it must be at mid-day, and you will have to meet me out at
Ranflitt."

"Two miles on the road?" I said.

"Yes; you be there, and if I'm not waiting I sha'n't be long, and we'll
go on together."

"What time shall I start?" I asked.

"When the men go to their dinner will do. I have some business at the
far end of the town, and it will not be worth while for me to come back.
I'll take the other road."

So it was settled, and I took my big stick down to the office, and a net
satchel that was handy for anything when slung from the right shoulder
and under my left arm. Before now it had carried fish, partridges,
fruits, herbs, roots of plants, and oftener than anything else, lunch.

That seemed to be a long morning, although I wrote hard all the time so
as to get a good day's work over first; but at last the dinner-bell
rang, and, saying good-bye to the others, I slipped the satchel into my
pocket,