"But that's no jackdaw's feather," I said; for, indeed, it was much
bigger.

Peter Kemp scratched his head.

"No, Joe, it ain't," he said; "and that made me wonder myself. It's a
rook's wing feather; but, true as truth, it was sticking out of the daw
behind, like the tail of a comet. Perhaps it was that which made me
pepper him. It sort of drew the eye, like."

"Well," I told Peter, "that's a message from my father. He's hid
somewhere--kept hidden, that is--against his will."

"So I was thinkin'," said Peter Kemp uneasily.

"Have you any idea where?"

"Why, no, Joe," he answered slowly. "You see, the daw was with the
rooks scratchin' about in a plowed field near the ellums, and it might
have come from anywhere. There's no sayin'. But there's one thing,
Joe, them jackdaws is all for old castles and church steeples and
such-like. If your father wrote that and tied it to the jackdaw's
tail--as is likely--he will be in some o' them places--up a steeple of
a church, most like; nobody goes there. Thank 'ee, no, Joe. I'd do
more than that for Mr. Yarrow, if only I knew how. But I'll keep a
bright look-out for daws with extra tail feathers. If any come along,
Peter Kemp'll spend a cartridge or two on them that old Sir Eddard 'll
never miss."

I hardly knew how to break the tidings to my mother, or whether to tell
her Peter's news at all or not. But, luckily, she was interested in
some tale that Harriet was telling. She was laughing, too, which
somehow grated on me. I can't tell why, for I now had good reason to
know that my father was alive and apparently, in no immediate danger.

Well, I slipped out, and went through the fields into the woods behind
Mr. Mustard's school. I knew that Elsie would soon be coming, and if
only she were minded to help, she had the levellest head of anybody;
and I would rather take her advice than that of any minister in the
place--especially after hooking down the Hayfork Parson like a smoked
ham off the wall, a thing which lessens your respect for the clergy, if
indulged in.

Well, I saw her coming, and I stood right in the way, just beyond the
turn, well out of sight of old Mustard, for I knew he would be all
fixed and ready to give Elsie her morning lesson. But the funny thing
was that she didn't seem to see me at all, and would have passed by,
reading out of a book, like a train that doesn't stop at a station.
But I stood right slam in front, and taking the book--"