an afternoon's
stroll. Both bore sore evidences of the severity of the struggle,
one being bandaged over his forehead, the other following with
tell-tale limp and disfigured coat.

Not caring to face the inquisitorial eye of the villagers, nor
hear the rude sarcasm and stinging wit which he knew they would
hurl at him from their tongues, Moses turned down a foot-road
leading from his garden to Folly Clough, and thus secured the
quiet ever found in those deeply-wooded seams that plough into the
very heart of the moors. Following the water-worn path which wound
in tortuous ascent under clustering trees and between slopes of
bracken, the two soon gained the head of the Clough, and climbed
towards the banks of the Green Fold Lodge, a stretch of water into
which drained the moisture of vast tracts of uplands, its overflow
rushing through flood-gates and pouring its volume through the
Clough to feed the factories below. Seating himself on the bank of
the Lodge, he recalled the day when he rescued his dog from its
chill deeps, and, turning to Captain, he said:

'It wor welly bein' thi grave once, owd lad. Aw wonder why it wor
aw saved thee. Thaa's getten many a lickin' (thrashing) sin' then
on my accaant.'

Whereupon the dog bounded round his feet, and held up its head for
one of those caresses which Moses was never known to extend save
to his dog.

As they rested together Moses continued:

'Thaas noan a bad sort, Captain; and thaa'd ha' done a deal more
good if aw'd a let thee. Thaa wor awlus fond o' childer', bud
they'd never let thee alone. It wor happen as weel if aw'd a bit
more o' thi spirit i' me, owd lad; but if there wor more fo'k like
thee there'd be less like me.'

And at this Captain wagged his tail with delight, and rubbed his
cold nose under the palm of Moses' hand.

'Aw've gin thee a bad name, owd mon, and they'n tried to hang thee
for't; but thaa'll happen do summat some day as they'll tee a
medal raand thi neck for, and when thaa'rt deead build thee a
moniment.'

And Moses actually laughed at his burst of mirth, which was of
rare occurrence in his taciturn life.

Moses' wit, however, was soon cut short, for he started and stayed
his monologue at the sight of a child sailing paper boats on the
opposite and deeper side of the reservoir,

'Why, yon's that little lad o' Oliver o' Deaf Martha's!' exclaimed
Moses to himself. 'What a foo' (fool) his mother mun be to let him
marlock on th' Lodge banks