wet
after all, though. Lord Bazelhurst wants war, does he? That log down
there is the dividing line in our river, eh? And I have to stay on
this side of it. By George, he's a mean-spirited person. And it's his
wife's land, too. I wonder what she's like. It's a pity a fellow can't
have a quiet, decent summer up here in the hills. Still"--lighting his
pipe--"I daresay I can give as well as I take. If I stay off his land,
they'll have to keep off of mine. Hullo, who's that? A man, by George,
but he looks like a partridge. As I live, Bonaparte is pointing. Ha,
ha, that's one on you, Bony." Mr. Shaw stepped into the brush at the
side of the path and watched the movements of the man at the "log,"
now less than one hundred yards away.

Lord Bazelhurst, attired in his brown corduroys and his tan waistcoat,
certainly suggested the partridge as he hopped nimbly about in the
distant foreground, cocking his ears from time to time with all the
aloofness of that wily bird. He was, strange to relate, some little
distance from Bazelhurst territory, an actual if not a confident
trespasser upon Shaw's domain. His horse, however, was tethered to
a sapling on the safe side of the log, comfortably browsing on
Bazelhurst grass. Randolph Shaw, an unseen observer, was considerably
mystified by the actions of his unusual visitor.

His lordship paced back and forth with a stride that grew firmer as
time brought forth no hostile impediments. His monocle ever and anon
was directed both high and low in search of Shaw or his henchmen,
while his face was rapidly resolving itself into a bloom of rage.

"Confound him," his lordship was muttering, looking at his timepiece
with stern disapproval; "he can't expect me to wait here all day. I'm
on his land and I'll stay here as long as I like." (At this juncture
he involuntarily measured the distance between himself and the log.)
"I knew it was all a bluff, his threat to put me off. Hang it all,
where is the fellow? I won't go up to his beastly house. I won't
gratify him by going up there even to give him his orders. Demmed cad,
blowhard! Five o'clock, confound him! I daresay he's seen me and has
crawled off into the underbrush. He's afraid of me; he's a coward. It
is as I feared. I can't see the rascal. There's only one thing left
for me to do. I'll pin a note to this tree. Confound him, he shall
hear from me; he'll _have_ to read it."

Whereupon his lordship drew forth a large envelope from his pocke