It had been a glorious day, and the evening now gave promise of a balmy night to come, but the Heath’s majestic repose was disturbed by the doings of man. Beneath the gorse and bracken lizards and toads had gone to rest in the marshy land beyond, waterhen and lapwing were asleep, but all the while on the great Moor, through the scrub and blackthorn, along path and ravine, man was hunting man and finding enjoyment in the sport. As Sir Humphrey Challoner and the attorney rode slowly along, they could hear from time to time the rallying cry of the various parties stalking the Heath for their big game. The hunt was close on the heels of Beau Brocade. Earlier in the afternoon his horse had been seen to make its way, riderless, towards the forge of John Stich. The quarry was on foot, he was known to be wounded, he must fall an easy prey to his trackers soon enough: sometimes in the distance there would come a shout of triumph, when the human blood-hounds had at last found a scent, then Sir Humphrey would rouse himself from his moody silence, a look of keen malice would light up his deep-set eyes, and reining in his horse, he would strain his ears to hear that shout of triumph again. "He’ll not escape this time, Sir Humphrey," whispered Mittachip, falling obsequiously into his employer’s mood. "No! curse him!" muttered his Honour with a string of violent oaths, "I shall see him hang before two days are over, unless these dolts let him escape again." "Nay, nay, Sir Humphrey! that’s not likely!" chuckled Master Mittachip. "Squire West has pressed all his own able-bodied men into the service, and the posse of soldiers were most keen for the chase. Nay, nay, he’ll not escape this time." "’Sdeath!" swore his Honour under his breath, "but I do feel stiff!" "A dreadful indignity," moaned the attorney. "Nay! but Squire West was most distressed, and his apologies were profuse! Indeed he seemed to feel it as much as if it had happened to himself." "Aye! but not in the same place, I’ll warrant! Odd’s life, I had no notion how much a turnip could hurt when flung into one’s eye," added his Honour, with one of those laughs that never boded any good. "A most painful incident, Sir Humphrey!" sighed Mittachip, brimming over with sympathy. "’Twas not the incident that was painful! Zounds! I am bruised all over. But I’ll have the law of every one of those dolts, aye! and make that fool West administer it on all of them! As for that ape, the beadle, he shall be publicly whipped. Death and hell! they’ll have to pay for this!" "Aye! aye! Sir Humphrey! your anger is quite natural, and Squire West assured me that that rascal Beau Brocade, who played you this impudent trick, cannot fail to be caught. The hunt is well organised, he cannot escape." As if to confirm the attorney’s words, there rose at this moment from afar a weird and eerie sound, which caused Master Mittachip’s shrivelled flesh to creep along his bones.