could only mean some mishap
to the man of yesterday. What sort of mishap?

Some understanding seems to pass between the four men--Archibald, the
two young grooms, and the gardener--something they will not speak of
direct to her ladyship. "What?--what's that?" says she, impatient of
their scrupulousness towards her sheltered inexperience of calamity.
"Tell me straight out!"

Old Archibald takes upon himself, as senior, to answer her question. "I
wouldna' set up to judge, my lady, for my ain part. But the lads are all
of one mind--just to follow on the dog's lead, for what may come o't."
Then he is going on "Ye ken maybe the mon might fall and be ill able to
move...." when he is caught up sharp by the girl's "Or be killed.
Yes--follow the dog." Why should she be kept from the hearing of a
mishap to this stranger, even of his death?

Old Stephen at the Lodge saw the party and came out in haste. He had his
story to tell, and told it as one who had no blame for his own share in
it. Why should he have any? He had only carried out his orders.
Yes--that was the dog he drew trigger on. He could not be mistaken on
that point.

"And you fired on the dog to kill it," says the young lady, flashing out
into anger.

The old man stands his ground. "I had my orders, my lady," says he. "If
I caught sight of e'er a dog unled--to shoot un."

"The man he belonged to--did you not see him?"

"No ma'an coom in my sight. Had I seen a ma'an, I would have wa'arned
and cautioned him to keep to the high road, not to bring his dog inside
o' the parkland. No--no--there was ne'er a ma'an, my lady." He goes on,
very slightly exaggerating the time that passed between his shot at the
dog and its reappearance, apparently going back to the Castle. He rather
makes a merit of not having fired again from a misgiving that the dog's
owner might be there on a visit. Drews Thurrock, he says, is where he
lost sight of the dog, and that is where Achilles seems bent on going.

Drews Thurrock is a long half-mile beyond the Keeper's Lodge in Ancester
Park, and the Lodge is a long half-mile from the Towers. Still, if it
was reasonable to follow the dog at all, where would be the sense of
holding back or flagging till he should waver in what seemed assurance
of his purpose. No--no! What he was making for might be five miles off,
for all that the party that followed him knew. But trust in the
creature's instinct grew stronger each time he turned and waited for