lost upon the moors--whom he could not leave unkindly, even for his
son's sake. And yet about that I was jealous, and ready to be vexed with
him, when he should begin to make much of me. And I felt in my pocket
for the new pipe which I had brought him from Tiverton, and said to
myself, 'He shall not have it until to-morrow morning.'

Woe is me! I cannot tell. How I knew I know not now--only that I slunk
away, without a tear, or thought of weeping, and hid me in a saw-pit.
There the timber, over-head, came like streaks across me; and all I
wanted was to lack, and none to tell me anything.

By-and-by, a noise came down, as of woman's weeping; and there my mother
and sister were, choking and holding together. Although they were my
dearest loves, I could not bear to look at them, until they seemed to
want my help, and put their hands before their eyes.

CHAPTER IV

A VERY RASH VISIT

My dear father had been killed by the Doones of Bagworthy, while riding
home from Porlock market, on the Saturday evening. With him were six
brother-farmers, all of them very sober; for father would have no
company with any man who went beyond half a gallon of beer, or a single
gallon of cider. The robbers had no grudge against him; for he had never
flouted them, neither made overmuch of outcry, because they robbed other
people. For he was a man of such strict honesty, and due parish feeling,
that he knew it to be every man's own business to defend himself and
his goods; unless he belonged to our parish, and then we must look after
him.

These seven good farmers were jogging along, helping one another in the
troubles of the road, and singing goodly hymns and songs to keep their
courage moving, when suddenly a horseman stopped in the starlight full
across them.

By dress and arms they knew him well, and by his size and stature, shown
against the glimmer of the evening star; and though he seemed one man to
seven, it was in truth one man to one. Of the six who had been
singing songs and psalms about the power of God, and their own
regeneration--such psalms as went the round, in those days, of the
public-houses--there was not one but pulled out his money, and sang
small beer to a Doone.

But father had been used to think that any man who was comfortable
inside his own coat and waistcoat deserved to have no other set, unless
he would strike a blow for them. And so, while his gossips doffed their
hats, and shook with what was left of th