“Lots of kangaroos here,” said Bevis, “and big kangaroos too--hares you know; I say, I shall come here with the matchlock some night.” “So we will.” There was a gap in the corner, and as they came idling along they got up into the double mound, when Bevis, who was first, suddenly dropped on his knees and seized Pan’s shaggy neck. Mark crouched instantly behind him. “What is it?” he whispered. “Some one’s been here.” “How do you know?” “Sniff.” Mark sniffed. There was the strong pungent smell of crushed nettles. He understood in a moment--some one had recently gone through and trampled on them. They remained in this position for five minutes, hardly breathing, and afraid to move. “I can’t hear any one,” whispered Mark. “No.” “Must have gone on.” Bevis crept forward, still holding Pan with one hand; Mark followed, and they crossed the mound, when the signs of some one having recently been there became visible in the trampled nettles, and in one spot there was the imprint of a heel-plate. “Savages,” said Bevis. “Ah! Look.” Mark looked through the branches and a long way out in the stubble, moving among the shocks of wheat, he saw Bevis’s governor. They watched him silently. The governor walked straight away; they scarcely breathed till he had disappeared in the next field. Then they drew back into the Waste, and looked at one another. “Very nearly done,” said Mark. “We won’t land again in daylight,” said Bevis. “No--it’s not safe; he must have been close.” “He must have got up into the mound and looked through,” said Bevis. “Perhaps while we were by the gate.” “Most likely. He came across the stubble, why he was that side while we were this.” “Awfully nearly done; why it must have been the governor who startled the partridges!” “Stupes we were not to know some one was about.” “Awful stupes.” They walked back to the raft, keeping close to the hedge, and crept on all fours among the ant-hills so as to pass the gateway without the possibility of being seen, though they knew the governor was now too far to observe them. The governor had been to look at the progress made by the reapers, and then strolled across the stubble, thinking to see what birds were about, as it was not such a great while till the season opened. Coming to the mound, he got up and looked through into the Waste, over which (as over the New Sea) he held manorial rights. At the moment he was looking out into the pasture they were idly approaching him along the hedge, and had he stopped there they would have come on him. As it was, he went back into the stubble, and had gone some fifty yards with his back turned when they entered the gap. “We might have been tortured,” said Mark, as they stepped on the raft. “Tied up and gimlets bored into our heads.” “The king of this country is an awful tyrant,” said Bevis. “Very likely he would have fixed us in a hollow tree and smeared us with honey and let the flies eat us.”