"Strange ways, I never yet gave my word to a thing and then went back on it. And I promise you now that if you lay a finger on Kate, I'll smash every bone in your body." "An' swing for 't?" sneered Joe. "Ay, and swing for it, if need be," Griff answered, his voice falling to a quietness that appalled the quarrymaster. The landlord followed him into the passage. "I'm fair sick o' yon Strangeways, sir. He's a surly wastril, as is allus kicking up a row i' my public. Only, ye wouldn't be thinking o' persecuting him for shying that there mug at ye? It 'ud be brought in drunk and disorderly, sure as sure, an' that harms a respectable public." "Prosecuted?" murmured Griff. "No, of course not." The landlord turned with a sigh of relief. Truth to tell, Griff scarcely grasped what he had said. He was face to face with a situation which, until now, he had realized but dimly. That swift understanding of the thing called love had so lifted him out and beyond the little world about him, had given him such new forces, new hopes, that he had hardly paused to ask himself "What next?" To-night, though, the matter was practical, urgent. Instinctively he made for Wynyates, quickening his pace with every stride. Gabriel Hirst was coming out of his gate as he passed through Ling Crag. "Is that you, Griff? I thought it looked like your stride, though it's almost too dark to see." "Yes, it's I. I'm off for a tramp." "Where to?" asked the preacher, trying to fall in with his step. "The devil." "Griff, Griff, what's this? To speak so to the man who's loved and looked up to you--ay, looked up to you, for all your wild ways. Lad, do you want to--to make an end of our friendship?" Gabriel had grown very sensitive of late to changes in those he loved. Griff put out a hand into the darkness and gripped his friend's. "Don't be a fool, old fellow. It isn't that--only, I want to be alone; I've troubles to think out, and there seems to be no way to it yet." "Can't you tell them to me, Griff? I might be able to help." Griff hesitated a moment, then laughed to himself, as he put the thought from him. The preacher was such a baby in women-matters; how could he appeal to him? "Thanks, Gabriel, but I couldn't explain--not just yet. I'll come to you when the way shows a bit clearer.--Roddick has lived, and he's tough. He ought to be good for something," he added, after he had said good-night to Gabriel, and quickened his stride again. He reached Wynyates, opened the door without knocking, and stamped into the hall. "Who's there?" came a voice from the room to his right. Griff followed the voice. He found Roddick seated at the table, which was covered with a jumble of cold beef, bread, apple-pie, cheese, and beer. "Oh, you, is it?" said Roddick, cutting himself another slice of beef. "Why the deuce can't you enter in a Christian way? Have some food." "So I will. I'd clean forgotten supper."