"Don't you think, Walter," replied his sister calmly, "that God, who has put such a loving thought into the heart of Walter, will keep him from harm? Would it be right to check him when he is bent on such a work? Besides, as to the wretched and unhappy man who has caused all this trouble, are not such characters, with all their bluster, commonly arrant cowards when they find themselves firmly confronted?" "Perhaps so, Kate. Well, send Walter to me." "My boy," exclaimed the squire, when Walter made his appearance, "what wild scheme is this? Why, surely you can't be serious?" "Indeed I am, father. You needn't be afraid for me. It was not my own thought,--I'm sure it was put into my mind; besides, it will be capital fun just having to look after myself for a night or two, and a little roughing it will do me good." "And where do you intend to sleep and to put up, I should like to know?" asked Mr Huntingdon, half seriously and half amused. "Oh, I'll find a shakedown somewhere; and I'm sure to be able to get lots of eggs and bacon and coffee, and I could live on them for a week." "And I suppose I am to be paymaster," said his father, laughing. "Oh no, father, not unless you like. I've a sovereign still left; I'll make that pay all, and I must do without things till I get my next quarter's allowance." "Very well, my boy; but hadn't you better take Harry or Dick with you?" "O father! take old Harry! why, I might as well take the town-crier. Oh no, let me go alone. I know what Amos would say if it were he that was in my place; he would say that we may trust to be taken care of while we are in the path of duty.--May I go, then, father?" "Well--yes," said Mr Huntingdon, but rather reluctantly; and then he said, "But how shall I be sure that you haven't got into any trouble? for I understand from your aunt that you make it a point of honour not to let us know where you are going to." "All right, father: if I don't turn up some time to-morrow afternoon, I'll manage to send a letter by some means or other." After luncheon Walter set out on his self-imposed expedition, on his own pony, with a wallet strapped behind him which Miss Huntingdon had taken care should be furnished with such things as were needful. His father also thrust some money into his hand as they parted. And now we must leave him as he trots briskly away, rather proud of his solitary journey, and follow his brother, who little suspected that a guard and protector was pursuing him in the person of his volatile brother Walter.