ulled up the horses suddenly, and said he had heard a shout.
Instantly they jumped out and shouted back; and now, following the
direction of the voice, far up the great slope, they _met_ Jeffreys,
with the boy leaning on his arm safe, but almost exhausted.

Neither of them retained a vivid recollection of that drive home.
Jeffreys was vaguely conscious of them calling on the way for the
doctor, and taking him along in the carriage. He also heard Scarfe say
something to Mr Rimbolt in tones of commiseration, in which something
was added about the inconsiderateness and untrustworthiness of Jeffreys.
But for the rest he reclined back in his seat, scarcely conscious of
anything but the rest and warmth.

At Wildtree, the now familiar scene of the whole household gathered
panic-struck an the threshold drove him precipitately to his room. He
knew what to expect if he stayed there.

Jeffreys dropped asleep with the dog's howl ringing weirdly in his ears.
In his dreams it seemed to change into that still more terrible howl
which had stunned him long ago on the Bolsover meadow. It followed him
as he carried young Forrester in his arms across that fatal ledge. It
was pitch dark; and on the ledge Scarfe stood to drive him back. Then
suddenly a new bright path seemed to open at his side, into which he
stepped with his precious burden. And as he did so he saw, far off,
Raby standing at the end of the way.

It was ten o'clock when he awoke; but the house was still asleep. Only
a few servants were stirring; and even Walker had taken advantage of the
occasion to "sleep in."

Jeffreys was tough and hardy; and the night's rest had done more for him
than twenty doctors. He got up, shook himself, and behold his limbs
were strong under him, and his head was clear and cool. He dressed
himself quietly and descended to the kitchen, where he begged an early
breakfast of the servants. Then he sallied forth with his stick towards
Wild Pike.

The grand pile on this bright winter's morning looked almost
hypocritically serene and benignant. The sunlight bathed the stern
cliff which yesterday had buffeted back the wind with a roar as fierce
as itself; and in the quiet spring-like air the peaceful bleating of
sheep was the only sound to be heard on the steep mountain-side.

But Jeffreys did not turn his steps upward. On the contrary, he kept to
the lowest track in the valley, and took the path which led him nearest
to the base of tha