arly as trained pointers.

He threw himself down again under his tree, and now bethought
himself of his pipe. Here was a companion which, wonderful to
say, he had not thought of before since the night set in. He
pulled it out, but paused before lighting. Nothing was so likely
to betray his whereabouts as tobacco. True, but anything was
better than such another fright as he had had, "so here goes," he
thought, "if I keep off all the poachers in Berkshire;" and he
accordingly lighted up, and, with the help of his pipe, once more
debated with himself the question of beating a retreat.

After a sharp inward struggle, he concluded to stay and see it
out. He should despise himself, more than he cared to face, if he
gave in now. If he left that spot before morning, the motive
would be sheer cowardice. There might be fifty other good reasons
for going; but, if he went, _his_ reason would be fear and
nothing else. It might have been wrong and foolish to come out;
it must be to go in now. "Fear never made a man do a right
action," he summed up to himself; "so here I stop, come what may
of it. I think I've seen the worst of it now. I was in a real
blue funk, and no mistake. Let's see, wasn't I laughing this
morning at the watcher who didn't like passing a night by the
river? Well, he has got the laugh on me now, if he only knew it.
I've learnt one lesson to-night at any rate; I don't think I
shall ever be very hard on cowards again."

By the time he had finished his pipe, he was a man again, and,
moreover, notwithstanding the damp, began to feel sleepy, now
that his mind was thoroughly made up, and his nerves were quiet.
So he made the best of his plaid, and picked a softish place, and
went off into a sort of dog-sleep, which lasted at intervals
through the short summer night. A poor thin sort of sleep it was,
in which he never altogether lost his consciousness, and broken
by short intervals of actual wakefulness, but a blessed release
from the self-questionings and panics of the early night.

He woke at last with a shiver. It was colder than he had yet felt
it, and it seemed lighter. He stretched his half-torpid limbs,
and sat up. Yes, it was certainly getting light, for he could
just make out the figures on the face of his watch which he
pulled out. The dawn was almost upon him, and his night watch was
over. Nothing had come of it as yet, except his fright, at which
he could now laugh comfortably enough; probably nothing m