ly an under keeper. He
was a big, rather rough-looking fellow, but as he lurched out into
the open from a wood Betty saw that she could reach him if she passed
through a narrow gate a few yards away and walked quickly.

He was slouching along, his head drooping and his broad shoulders
expressing the definite antipodes of good spirits. Betty studied his
back as she strode after him, her conclusion being that he was perhaps
not a good-humoured man to approach at any time, and that this was by
ill luck one of his less fortunate hours.

"Wait a moment, if you please," her clear, mellow voice flung out after
him when she was within hearing distance. "I want to speak to you,
keeper."

He turned with an air of far from pleased surprise. The afternoon
sun was in his eyes and made him scowl. For a moment he did not see
distinctly who was approaching him, but he had at once recognised a
certain cool tone of command in the voice whose suddenness had roused
him from a black mood. A few steps brought them to close quarters, and
when he found himself looking into the eyes of his pursuer he made
a movement as if to lift his cap, then checking himself, touched it,
keeper fashion.

"Oh!" he said shortly. "Miss Vanderpoel! Beg pardon."

Bettina stood still a second. She had her surprise also. Here was the
unexpected again. The under keeper was the red-haired second-class
passenger of the Meridiana.

He did not look pleased to see her, and the suddenness of his appearance
excluded the possibility of her realising that upon the whole she was at
least not displeased to see him.

"How do you do?" she said, feeling the remark fantastically
conventional, but not being inspired by any alternative. "I came to tell
you that one of the stags has got through a gap in the fence."

"Damn!" she heard him say under his breath. Aloud he said, "Thank you."

"He is a splendid creature," she said. "I did not know what to do. I was
glad to see a keeper coming."

"Thank you," he said again, and strode towards the place where the
stag still stood gazing up the road, as if reflecting as to whether it
allured him or not.

Betty walked back more slowly, watching him with interest. She wondered
what he would find it necessary to do. She heard him begin a low,
flute-like whistling, and then saw the antlered head turn towards him.
The woodland creature moved, but it was in his direction. It had without
doubt answered his call before and knew its meani