“No horse has ever yet crossed the Woeburn,” Mr. Hales replied, as they all turned homeward across the shoulder of the hill; “at least, if the legends about that are true. Though a hare may have leaped it to-day, to-morrow no horse will either swim or leap it.” “Bless my heart! does it rise like that? The sooner we get out of its way the better. What a pest it will be to you, Rector! Why, you never will be able to come to the meet, and our opening day is next Tuesday.” “Steenie,” cried the Rector, imbibing hope, “it has not struck me in that light before. But it scarcely could ever be the will of the Lord to cut off a parson from his own pack!” “Oh, don’t walk so fast!” shouted Captain Chapman; “one’s neck might be broken down a hill like this. Tom, let me lean on your shoulder. Boy, I’ll give you sixpence to carry my gun. Tom take the flints out, that he mayn’t shoot me. Here, Uncle Struan, just sit down a minute; a minute can’t make any difference, you know.” “That is true,” said the Rector, who was also out of breath. “Bonny, how far was the black water come? You seem to know all about it.” “Plaize, sir, it seem to be coming down a hill; and the longer I looked, the more water was a-coming.” “You little nincompoop! had it passed your own door yet--your hole, or your cave, or whatever you call it?” “Plaize, sir, it worn’t a runnin’ towards I at all. It wor makin’ a hole in the ground and kickin’ a splash up in a fuzzy corner.” “My poor boy, its course is not far from your door; it may be in among your goods, and have drowned your jackass and all, by this time.” Like an arrow from a bow, away went Bonny down the headlong hill, having cast down the captain’s gun, and pulled off his red coat to run the faster. The three men left behind clapped their hands to their sides and roared with laughter; at such a pace went the white buckskin breeches, through bramble, gorse, heather, over rock, sod, and chalk. “What a grand flying shot!” cried the keeper. “Where the treasure is, there will the heart be,” said the Rector as soon as he could speak. “I would give a month’s tithes for a good day’s rout among that boy’s accumulations. He has got the most wonderful things, they say; and he keeps them on shelves, like a temple of idols. What will he do when he gets too big to go in at his own doorway? I am feeding him up with a view to that; and so are my three daughters.” “He must be a thorough young thief,” said the captain. “In any other parish he would be in prison. I scarcely know which is the softer ‘beak’--as we are called--you, or Sir Roland.”