The victorious skipper looked up and down the lonely road, and shaking his head sadly at the noble steed which had brought him into this mess, tenderly felt his bruised and aching head, and then set off as fast as his foot would permit up the road. He looked about eagerly as he went for a place of concealment, fully aware of the inability of a lame shipmaster to outdistance horseflesh. Hedges and fields bounded both sides of the road, but half a mile farther along, on the right-hand side, the field stretched away upwards to meet a wood. Towards this wood Captain Flower, having first squeezed himself through a gap in the hedge, progressed with all speed. He sat on the trunk of a fallen pine to regain his breath, and eagerly looked about him. To his disappointment he saw that the wood was of no great depth, but was a mere belt of pines running almost parallel with the road he had quitted. With the single idea of getting as far away from the scene of his crime as possible, he began to walk through it. The wood was very still, and the shade grateful after the heat of the sun. Just beyond, the fields were shimmering in the heat, and he pricked up his ears as the unmistakable sound of wheels and hoofs came across the silent fields. He looked round wildly, and seeing a tiny cottage standing in a bit of a clearing, made towards it. A little old man twisted with rheumatism rose as he stood at the open door and regarded him with a pair of bloodshot, but sharp, old eyes, while an old woman sitting in a Windsor-chair looked up anxiously. “Can I come in?” asked Flower. “Aye,” said the old man, standing aside to let him pass. “Hot day,” said the skipper, taking a seat. “No, ’tain’t,” said the old man. “Not so hot as yesterday,” said Flower, with a conciliatory smile. “It’s ’otter than it was yesterday,” said the old man. “What ha’ you done to your face?” “I was climbing a tree,” said Flower, with a laugh, “and I fell down; I’ve hurt my foot, too.” “Served you right if you’d broke your neck,” said his amiable host, “climbing trees at your time o’ life.” “Nice cottage you’ve got here,” said the persistent Flower. “I wish you ’ad to live in it,” said the old man. He took a proffered cigar, and after eyeing it for some time, like a young carver with a new joint, took out a huge clasp-knife and slowly sawed the end off. “Can I sleep here for the night?” asked Flower, at length. “No, you can’t,” said the old man, drawing at his cigar. He smoked on, with the air of a man who has just given a very clever answer to a very difficult question. “We ain’t on’y got one room besides this,” said the old woman solemnly. “Years ago we used to have four and a wash-place.” “Oh, I could sleep on the floor here,” said Flower, lightly. “I’ll pay you five shillings.” “Let’s see your money,” said the old man, leaning forward. Flower put the sum in his hand. “I’ll pay now,” he said, heartily.