Just at this moment there appeared coming down the hill through the trees behind them the stalwart form of a young man, carrying a gun, and followed by two dogs. He paused a moment when he saw the white dress of the Mayflower, and smiled; but in another moment, perceiving John Temple lying on the grass at her feet, he frowned. The dogs ran forward and were approaching the Mayflower's camp-stool in the manner of welcome and familiar friends, when their master harshly called them back, and, hearing his voice, the Mayflower looked round just in time to see the young man savagely strike one of the dogs with a whip which he had drawn from his pocket. The poor beast yelled and shrank back, and the Mayflower rose indignantly, her fair face flushing as she did so. "Oh, Mr. Henderson, what a shame!" she cried. "What are you striking the poor dog for?" The young man, on being thus addressed, came forward, and there was a flush on his handsome face also, as he approached the girl. John Temple did not move; he lay looking up at two figures before him. "Why did you strike Juno?" repeated the Mayflower, as the young man drew near. He raised his cloth cap as he answered, and his brown eyes fell. "One must keep them in order," he said, half-sullenly. "But Juno was doing nothing. Come here, poor Juno; I hate cruelty." "Yet you sometimes practice it," retorted the young man in a low tone. He was singularly striking looking. Tall and splendidly formed, with features--though he was as brown as a gypsy--of remarkable regularity. It was indeed impossible not to remark on his personal appearance. The one defect on his face, perhaps, was his mouth, which was sensual looking, though shaded by a thick, crisp, brown mustache. Still, he was a splendid specimen of young manhood, and John Temple, from his vantage ground, mentally, distinctly admitted this. Yet, in spite of all his physical advantages; in spite, also, of being undoubtedly well-dressed, there was a certain countrified look about him which was almost indescribable. The Mayflower turned her pretty head away when he spoke of her cruelty, and his brown eyes followed this slight movement with unmistakable eagerness. But she made no answering sign of interest. She looked down at John Temple lying on the grass, and he rose as she did so. "So you are fond of God's dumb creatures?" he said. "I am very fond of horses and dogs," she answered; "indeed, I think, of all animals." "And, no doubt, they are fond of you?" The girl laughed softly and blushed a little, and then stooped down and stroked poor Juno's fawn head, who had once more crept to her side, in spite of her master's lowering looks. "What a handsome creature!" said John Temple; "and she evidently knows you." "Oh, yes; we are old friends," answered the Mayflower, and she half glanced at the young man she had called Mr. Henderson as she spoke, but he did not look pleased.