ding to the fish they harboured. When
the moorland waters spouted and churned, cherry red from their springs
in the peat, he deemed them a noble spectacle; when, as at present,
Teign herself had shrunk to a mere silver thread, and the fingerling
trout splashed and wriggled half out of water in the shallows, he freely
criticised its scanty volume and meagre depths.

Miller Lyddon welcomed the men very heartily. He had been amongst those
who dismissed them with hope to their battle against the world, and now
he reminded them of his sanguine predictions. Will Blanchard's
disappearance amused John Grimbal and he laughed when Billy Blee
appeared red-hot with the news. Mr. Lyddon made no secret of his
personal opinion of Blanchard, and all debated the probable design of
the wanderer.

"Maybe he's 'listed," said John, "an' a good thing too if he has. It
makes a man of a young fellow. I'm for conscription myself--always have
been."

"I be minded to think he've joined the riders," declared Billy. "Theer
comed a circus here last month, with braave doin's in the way of
horsemanship and Merry Andrews, and such like devilries. Us all goes to
see it from miles round every year; an' Will was theer. Circus folk do
see the world in a way denied to most, and theer manner of life takes
'em even as far as Russia and the Indies I've heard."

"Then there's the gypsy blood in him--" declared Mr. Lyddon, "that might
send him roaming oversea, if nothing else did."

"Or my great doings are like to have fired him," said John. "How's
Phoebe?" he continued, dismissing Will. "I saw her yesterday--a bowerly
maiden she's grown--a prize for a better man that this wild youngster,
now bolted God knaws where."

"So I think," agreed the miller, "an' I hope she'll soon forget the
searching grey eyes of un and his high-handed way o' speech. Gals like
such things. Dear, dear! though he made me so darned angry last night, I
could have laughed in his faace more 'n wance."

"Missy's under the weather this marnin'," declared Billy. "Who tawld her
I ban't able to say, but she knawed he'd gone just arter feedin' the
fowls, and she went down valley alone, so slow, wi' her purty head that
bent it looked as if her sunbonnet might be hiding an auld gran'mother's
poll."

"She'll come round," said Martin; "she's only a young girl yet."

"And there 's fish as good in the sea as ever came out, and better,"
declared his brother. "She must wait for a man who is a