ep your revolver near you night and day, and never
relax your precautions."

Our friends had already secured a first-class carriage and were waiting
for us upon the platform.

"No, we have no news of any kind," said Dr. Mortimer in answer to my
friend's questions. "I can swear to one thing, and that is that we
have not been shadowed during the last two days. We have never gone
out without keeping a sharp watch, and no one could have escaped our
notice."

"You have always kept together, I presume?"

"Except yesterday afternoon. I usually give up one day to pure amusement
when I come to town, so I spent it at the Museum of the College of
Surgeons."

"And I went to look at the folk in the park," said Baskerville.

"But we had no trouble of any kind."

"It was imprudent, all the same," said Holmes, shaking his head and
looking very grave. "I beg, Sir Henry, that you will not go about alone.
Some great misfortune will befall you if you do. Did you get your other
boot?"

"No, sir, it is gone forever."

"Indeed. That is very interesting. Well, good-bye," he added as the
train began to glide down the platform. "Bear in mind, Sir Henry, one of
the phrases in that queer old legend which Dr. Mortimer has read to us,
and avoid the moor in those hours of darkness when the powers of evil
are exalted."

I looked back at the platform when we had left it far behind and saw the
tall, austere figure of Holmes standing motionless and gazing after us.

The journey was a swift and pleasant one, and I spent it in making the
more intimate acquaintance of my two companions and in playing with
Dr. Mortimer's spaniel. In a very few hours the brown earth had
become ruddy, the brick had changed to granite, and red cows grazed in
well-hedged fields where the lush grasses and more luxuriant vegetation
spoke of a richer, if a damper, climate. Young Baskerville stared
eagerly out of the window and cried aloud with delight as he recognized
the familiar features of the Devon scenery.

"I've been over a good part of the world since I left it, Dr. Watson,"
said he; "but I have never seen a place to compare with it."

"I never saw a Devonshire man who did not swear by his county," I
remarked.

"It depends upon the breed of men quite as much as on the county," said
Dr. Mortimer. "A glance at our friend here reveals the rounded head of
the Celt, which carries inside it the Celtic enthusiasm and power
of attachment. Poor Sir Charles's head w