ured it, sir, you don't know," said Samson to
himself. But replying in a whisper, he said, "Yes, Master Fred, but you
didn't fetch me out of bed to tell me that."

"No; I tell you now, to keep you from yawning like the Silcombe bull."

"Well, I couldn't help it, sir; but I won't do so no more."

"Keep close behind me, tread softly, and as soon as we get up to the
wilderness move every bough as carefully as you can."

"Rabbits, sir?"

"No, no. Silence! Follow me."

"'Course I'll follow him; but what's he going after? Well, I aren't
surprised. Nothing surprises me now that the place is turned upside
down. I don't believe I should feel surprised if my brother Nat was to
want to shake hands, though that would be a startler."

Samson went on musing after his fashion, as he kept close to Fred's
heels, and they went quickly and silently on over the soft wet grass,
till a great black patch began to loom over them, grew more dark, and
then, after a few moments' hesitation and trying to right and left, Fred
plunged in, to force his way as carefully as possible, but making very
slow progress toward the spot he sought, for to a great extent it was
guess-work in the utter blackness which reigned around.

"I say, Master Fred?" whispered Samson, as a pause was made.

"Yes."

"You said something just now about the Silcombe bull."

"Well?"

"I wish he was here."

"Why?"

"So as to go first and make a way. I'm getting scratched all to bits."

"I think we are right. Come along."

"Come along it is, sir; but I'm getting so thirsty."

They went on for a few minutes more, and then Samson uttered an
exclamation.

"Hush!" whispered Fred.

"But didn't you hear that, sir? It's the guytrash."

"Here, this way," whispered Fred. "I can find the place now."

"No, no, dear lad, don't go near it," said Samson, under his breath.
"You never know what may happen, if you go near it. Don't, pray don't
go."

Samson emphasised his appeal by holding tightly to his young master's
jerkin, impeding his movements to such an extent that Fred turned upon
him fiercely.

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself," he said, "with your guytrashes
and goblins, and witches and nonsense."

"What, sir! Why, didn't you hear it moan yonder?"

"I heard a sigh."

"Well, sir, that was the guytrash calling to you to come, so as to get
hold of you; and if it did I should never see you again."

"Not if it keeps as dark as this, you stupid