“I mean just what I say. Donʼt ask me the reason, my dear fellow; Iʼll tell you by–and–by, when we smoke our pipes together. Now I beg you, as an especial favour, donʼt lose a moment in arguing. Go direct to the mark yourself, and straight powder to you! Iʼll come and meet you in an hourʼs time in the spire–bed by the covert”. “Crad, itʼs no good to argue with you; that I have known for ages. Mind, the big–wigs donʼt dine till seven oʼclock, so you have plenty of time to come for me. But I am so sorry I shanʼt have you there to wipe my eye as usual. Nevertheless, Iʼll bring home Bill Woodcock; and what will you say to me then, my boy? Ta, ta; come along, Wena, wonʼt we astonish the natives? But I wish you were coming with me, Crad”. The brothers went out at the little gate, and there Cradock stopped and watched the light figure hurrying westward over the chase, taking a short cut for the coverts. Clayton would just carry down the spinney, where the head of the spring was, because the woodcock might have gone on there; and if ever a snipe was come back to his home yet, that was the place to meet him. Thence he would follow the runnel, for about a third of a mile, down to the spot in the Coffin Wood, where the hollies grew, and the hoar–witheys. When quit of that coppice, the little stream stole away down the valley, and so past Mr. Garnetʼs cottage to the Nowelhurst water beyond the church bridge. Now whether this were the self–same brook on whose marge we observed Master Clayton last week walking, not wholly in solitude, is a question of which I will say no more, except that it does not matter much. There are so many brooks in the New Forest; and after all, if you come to that, how can the most consistent of brooks be identical with the special brook which we heard talking yesterday? Isnʼt it running, running on, even as our love does? Join hands and keep your fingers tight; still it will slip through them. When Clayton was gone but a little way over the heather and hare–runs, his brother made off, with his gun uncharged, for the group still at work in the house–front. Bull Garnet was there, with Rufus Hutton sticking like a leech to him; no man ever was bored more sharply, or more bluntly expressed it. The veins of his temples and close–cropped head stood out like a beech–treeʼs stay roots; he was steaming all over with indignation, and could not find a vent for it. When Cradock came up, Bull saw in a glimpse that he was expected to say something; in fact, that he ought, as a gentleman, to show his interest, not his surprise. Nevertheless he would not do it, though he loved and admired Cradock; and for many reasons was cut to the heart by his paulo–postponement. So he left Craddy to begin, and presented no notch in his swearing. His swearing was tremendous, for he hated change of orders.