’That be young Mr. Sampson Tramplara,’ said the constable. ’From battle, murder, and sudden death, good Lord deliver us.’ He spoke in an undertone. The wind blew up the valley, and there was not the remotest chance of his being heard. Then he added in a whisper, ’You’ll mind what I said, in confidence, sir, about my courage. I’ll back any one up, sir, but don’t’y thrust me forrard. There be divarsity of gifts, and I be famous at backing.’ Herring held up his finger. He looked in the direction of Flamank, but could not distinguish him. He was among the tufts of brown heather, and the speckled cloak was over him, completely merging him in the bushes. ’Keep a sharp look-out,’ whispered Herring, ’and when I touch you, spring up, and run with me down on Sampson Trampleasure. We must not let him slip away.’ They saw the young man come stealthily up the valley, looking right and left, evidently somewhat uneasy. The ’leat’ or channel of water came to a grip in the moor-side, and was carried over it in a long wooden launder on daddy long-legs’ supports. The stream was conveyed thence, still in wood, and covered, round an elbow of hill, and reached the washing-floors by a rapid incline. A wire conducted on poles from the mine to the sluice let the water on without the necessity of ascending to the launder head, which was invisible from the mine itself. The stamping-mills were working, and the drum was revolving and grinding. A second leat carried the water to put these in motion. Herring and the constable could hear the thud, thud of the hammers and the monotonous crunching of the crusher. Young Tramplara knelt down by the sluice, and took a packet from his breast pocket. Presently the poles supporting the wire creaked and swung in the direction of Ophir, and the sluice door was lifted. At once the water rushed down the wooden trough, and Sampson was seen, after a furtive glance round, to sprinkle the advancing stream with the contents of his packet. Herring touched the constable, and both rose and advanced from behind the rock. Tramplara’s back was towards them, and he was unaware of their approach. The wind was from him, and he did not hear their steps. At the same time the Reverend Israel Flamank rose and shook off his brown shawl. Herring and the constable were within a few paces of the young man, when he stood up, dusted his hands, and turned. Instantly he saw them, and uttered a cry of mingled rage and alarm. He turned sharply to run; then, thinking better of it, turned back again, and faced them, and, quick as thought, drew a pistol from his pocket and presented it at the head of John Herring. As he fixed him with his eye, Sampson recognised with whom he had to do, and Herring saw the flash of recognition in his evil eye. ’By God!’ said Sampson between his teeth, ’I am not sorry for this. I’ll settle old accounts with you this minute.’