Nor did he allow himself to lag again till they reached their destination--a little oasis of rich pasturage, already on rising ground though still a mile or two away from the hills. Once here--in their own kingdom, as it were--the little herdsmen became lively and natural; laughing and chatting with Ranulph, as they set about repairing such breaches as had been made in the huts by the rough and tumble of twelve odd hours. Then there was wood to be collected, and a fire to be lit--and into these tasks Ranulph threw himself with a gay, though rather feverish, vigour. At last they settled down to their long watch--squatting round the fire, and laughing for sheer love of adventure as good campaigners should; for were there not marching towards them some eight dark hours equipped with who could say what curious weapons from the rich arsenal of night and day? The cattle crouched round them in soft shadowy clumps, placidly munching, and dreaming with wide-open eyes. The narrow zone of colour created by the fire-light was like the planet Earth--a little freak of brightness in a universe of impenetrable shadows. Suddenly Luke noticed that each of the three little herdsmen was, like himself, wearing a sprig of fennel. "I say! why are all you little chaps wearing fennel?" he blurted out. They stared at him in amazement. "But you be wearing a bit yourself, Master Hempen," said Toby, the eldest. "I know"--and he could not resist adding in an offhand tone--"it was a present from a young lady. But do you always wear a bit in these parts?" he added. "Always on this night of the year," said the children. And as Luke looked puzzled, Toby cried in surprise, "Don't you wear fennel in Lud on the last night of October?" "No, we don't," answered Luke, a little crossly, "and why should we, I should like to know?" "Why," cried Toby in a shocked voice, "because this is the night when the Silent People--the dead, you know--come back to Dorimare." Ranulph looked up quickly. But Luke scowled; he was sick to death of western superstitions, and into the bargain he was feeling frightened. He removed the second sprig of fennel given him by Hazel from his button-hole, and holding it out to Ranulph, said, "Here, Master Ranulph! Stick that in your hatband or somewhere." But Ranulph shook his head. "I don't want any fennel, thank you, Luke," he said. "I'm not frightened." The children gazed at him in half-shocked admiration, and Luke sighed gloomily. "Not frightened of ... the Silent People?" queried Toby. "No," answered Ranulph curtly. And then he added, "At least not tonight." "I'll wager the widow Gibberty, at any rate, isn't wearing any fennel," said Luke, with a harsh laugh. The children exchanged queer little glances and began to snigger. This aroused Luke's curiosity: "Now then, out with it, youngsters! Why doesn't the widow Gibberty wear fennel?" But their only answer was to nudge each other, and snigger behind their fingers.