h and Mary and Peter
gived my mistress the money they promised her. So Charity Badge came out
of the maze with flying colours, you might say, not to mention fifty
golden pounds, all made out of her own head.

And many such like things she did, though never did they fetch such a
dollop of money again.

No. XII

THE TORCH

In my opinion there's hardly an acre of Dartmoor as wouldn't set forth a
good tale, if us could only go back along into time and get hold of it.
Anyway, there's a 'mazing fine thing to be told about Vitifer Farm; and
you don't want to go back far, neither, for it all happened but ten year
ago.

Vitifer is one of the "tenement" farms and don't belong to the Duchy; and
Furze Hill farm, which adjoins Vitifer, be likewise land handed down from
father to son from generations forgot. The "tenements" are scattered over
Dartmoor, mostly in the valleys of East and West Dart; but Vitifer and
Furze Hill stood together half a mile distant from the famous Vitifer tin
mine that lies in the wild ground west of Hameldon. And Joe Gregory farmed
Vitifer when this fearful thing fell out, and his brother Amos Gregory was
master at Furze Hill.

The Duchy had long desired the land, for 'tis Duchy's rule to snap up the
tenement farms as they fall in the market, and indeed few will soon remain
in private possession; but for the minute the two brothers--middle-aged
bachelors both--held on where their forefathers had worked before them
time out of mind, and it looked almost as though they was going to be the
last of the ancient name to resist the over-lord of Dartmoor; for men come
and men go; but Duchy lasts for ever and, no doubt, will have all it wants
to the last rood afore many years be past.

One of the next generation, however, still stood for the Gregory race, and
he was a nephew to Joe and Amos. A third brother they had, but him and his
wife were dead, and their only son lived with Joe and was thought to be
his heir. Ernest Gregory he was called, and few thought he'd make old
bones, for the young man was pigeon-breasted and high-coloured and coughed
a good bit when first he came up from the "in country" to the Moor.

Along with his uncle, however, he put on flesh and promised better. Fair
and gentle he was--a quiet, timid sort of chap, who kept pretty much to
himself and didn't neighbour with the young men and maidens. He was said
to be vain behind his silence and to reckon himself a good deal cleverer