“Lance,” cried George, suddenly, “please get something to eat for him--anything--everything you have!” Billy’s eyes glistened as, in a moment, Lance whipped out of the press some cold meat and bread, and he attacked it ravenously. Meanwhile, George fed the dog, which was evidently the least starved of the two. When Billy had eaten up everything that could be produced for him, he quietly curled himself up near the fire, and in half a minute he was sleeping the sleep of the just. “What are you going to do with him?” asked Lord Fairfax of George. “Keep him with me if you will allow me, sir.” “But what will your mother say? He seems to be a strong boy--his journey proves that--and he no doubt has his work at Ferry Farm.” George smiled at the recollection of Billy’s “work.” “I don’t think, my lord, that Billy is of the slightest use at Ferry Farm unless I am there. My mother, who believes in everybody’s being industrious, has done her best to make him work. So have his father and mother, Uncle Jasper and Aunt Sukey. But except for waiting on me, and taking care of my horse, Billy will absolutely do nothing. He is not surly about it--he is always grinning and laughing and singing--but--I can’t explain it exactly--he will work his fingers to the bone for me, but he won’t work for anybody else.” “I should not think Billy a very useful member of society,” remarked Lord Fairfax. George said not a word, but he did not like aspersions of any kind on Billy. Seeing this, Lord Fairfax said, in his usual kind tone: “If it gives you pleasure, you must, of course, keep him with you--and indeed there is nothing else to be done that I can see; and as you say he is no good to your mother when you are not at home, perhaps he is better off here. He seems a faithful little soul, and I am not surprised that you are touched at his devotion.” George’s face assumed an entirely different expression, but he merely said, “Thank you, sir,” and in a few minutes after, throwing a bear-robe over Billy, George went to bed himself, with Rattler curled up by him. Next morning they took the road soon after sunrise. Billy, who had enough of walking for some time to come, was mounted on one of the pack-horses. Two saddle-horses had been brought down from Greenway for the earl and his young guest, and together they led the procession along the rough mountain road. The scenery was wildly beautiful. Occasionally they wound along mighty precipices, where the horses could scarcely pick their way. Again they forded mountain streams that could only be breasted by the most tremendous exertions. They made their way through a great cleft in the mountains about midday, and began to descend towards the valleys. The distance was but twenty miles, yet so difficult was the road that it was late in the short autumn afternoon before Lord Fairfax, pointing to a collection of roofs that lay directly below them in a sheltered part of the valley, said to George, “There is Greenway Court.”