d not prove he was
not a fool! When one comes to think of it, Ripton did choose the only
possible way, and we should all of us have considerable difficulty in
proving the negative by any other. Ripton came on the unerring fist
again and again; and if it was true, as he said in short colloquial
gasps, that he required as much beating as an egg to be beaten
thoroughly, a fortunate interruption alone saved our friend from
resembling that substance. The boys heard summoning voices, and beheld
Mr. Morton of Poer Hall and Austin Wentworth stepping towards them.

A truce was sounded, jackets were caught up, guns shouldered, and off
they trotted in concert through the depths of the wood, not stopping
till that and half-a-dozen fields and a larch plantation were well
behind them.

When they halted to take breath, there was a mutual study of faces.
Ripton's was much discoloured, and looked fiercer with its natural
war-paint than the boy felt. Nevertheless, he squared up dauntlessly on
the new ground, and Richard, whose wrath was appeased, could not refrain
from asking him whether he had not really had enough.

"Never!" shouts the noble enemy.

"Well, look here," said Richard, appealing to common sense, "I'm tired
of knocking you down. I'll say you're not a fool, if you'll give me your
hand."

Ripton demurred an instant to consult with honour, who bade him catch at
his chance.

He held out his hand. "There!" and the boys grasped hands and were fast
friends. Ripton had gained his point, and Richard decidedly had the best
of it. So, they were on equal ground. Both, could claim a victory, which
was all the better for their friendship.

Ripton washed his face and comforted his nose at a brook, and was now
ready to follow his friend wherever he chose to lead. They continued
to beat about for birds. The birds on the Raynham estates were found
singularly cunning, and repeatedly eluded the aim of these prime shots,
so they pushed their expedition into the lands of their neighbors, in
search of a stupider race, happily oblivious of the laws and conditions
of trespass; unconscious, too, that they were poaching on the demesne of
the notorious Farmer Blaize, the free-trade farmer under the shield of
the Papworths, no worshipper of the Griffin between two Wheatsheaves;
destined to be much allied with Richard's fortunes from beginning to
end. Farmer Blaize hated poachers, and, especially young chaps poaching,
who did it mostly from imp