under
my round cap of doeskin.

Sunrise was to be our signal to move forward. The hours dragged; the
stars grew no paler; no sign of life appeared in the ghostly house save
when the west wind brought to me a faint scent of smoke, invisible as
yet above the single chimney.

But after a long while I knew that dawn was on the way towards the
western hills, for a bird twittered restlessly in the tree above me, and
I began to feel, rather than hear, a multitude of feathered stirrings
all about me in the darkness.

Would dawn never come? The stars seemed brighter than ever--no, one on
the eastern horizon twinkled paler; the blue-black sky had faded;
another star paled; others lost their diamond lustre; a silvery pallor
spread throughout the east, while the increasing chorus of the birds
grew in my ears.

Then a cock-crow rang out, close by, and the bird o' dawn's clear
fanfare roused the feathered world to a rushing outpour of song.

All the east was yellow now; a rose-light quivered behind the forest
like the shimmer of a hidden fire; then a blinding shaft of light fell
across the world.

Springing to my feet, I shouldered my rifle and started across the
pasture, ankle deep in glittering dew; and as I advanced Sir George
appeared, breasting the hill from the east; Murphy's big bulk loomed in
the west; and, as we met before the door of the house, Jack Mount
sauntered around the corner, chewing a grass-stem, his long, brown rifle
cradled in his arm.

"Rap on the door, Mount," I said. Mount gave a round double rap, chewed
his grass-stem, considered, then rapped again, humming to himself in an
under-tone:

"Is the old fox in?
Is the old fox out?
Is the old fox gone to Glo-ry?
Oh, he's just come in,
But he's just gone out,
And I hope you like my sto-ry!
Tink-a-diddle-diddle-diddle,
Tink-a-diddle-diddle-dum--"

"Rap louder," I said.

Mount obeyed, chewed reflectively, and scratched his ear.

"Is the Tory in?
Is the Tory out?
Is the Tory gone to Glo-ry?
Oh, he's just come in.
But he's just gone out--"

"Knock louder," I repeated.

Murphy said he could drive the door in with his gun-butt; I shook my
head.

"Somebody's coming," observed Mount--

"Tink-a-diddle-diddle--"

The door opened and a lean, dark-faced man appeared, dressed in his
smalls and shirt. He favored us with a sour look, which deepened to a
scowl when he recognized Moun