Reaching the spot where the wood began, and entering the shadow of the trees, he soon found a spot well fitted for his purpose. To the left, the road widened out into a grassy patch of common, adorned with, one or two bushes of stunted brown, and stretched out a dusty arm to touch a large white gate, which opened on a gloomy grass-grown avenue winding right through the heart of the wood. The caravan, coming slowly up, was soon placed in a snug position not far from the gate; the horse was taken out and suffered to graze; while Tim, searching about, soon found some dry sticks, and began to light a fire. Diving into the caravan, the young man re-emerged with a camp-stool, on which he sat down, lighted a meerschaum pipe, and began to smoke. They could hear the rain faintly pattering in the boughs above them, but the spot they had chosen was quite sheltered and dry. The fire soon blazed up. Entering the caravan in his turn, Tim brought out a tin kettle full of water, and placed it on the fire, preparatory to making tea. He was thus engaged when the sound of horse’s hoofs was heard along the highway, and presently the figure of a horseman appeared, approaching at a rapid trot. As it came near to the group in the wayside, the horse shied violently, springing from one side of the road to the other, so that its rider, a dark, middle-aged man in an old-fashioned cloak, was almost thrown from the saddle. Uttering a fierce oath, he recovered himself, and, reining in the frightened animal, looked angrily round; then, seeing the cause of the mischance, he forced his horse with no small difficulty to approach the figures by the fire. “Who are you?” he demanded, in harsh, peremptory tones. “What are you doing here?” The young man, pipe in mouth, looked up at him with a smile, but made no reply. “What are you? Vagrants? Do you know this place is private?” And he pointed with his riding-whip to a printed “Notice!” fixed close to the gate upon the stem of a large fir tree. “I beg your pardon,” said the young man, with the utmost _sang froid_; “we are, I imagine, on the Queen’s highway, and there, with your permission, we purpose to remain for the night.” Struck by the superior manner of the speaker, the new-comer looked at him in some surprise, but with no abatement of his haughty manner. He then glanced at Tim, who was busy with the kettle, from Tim to the grey mare, and from the grey mare to the house on wheels. The scowl on his dark face deepened, and he turned his fierce eyes again on the young man. “Let me warn you that these grounds are private. I suffer no wandering vagabonds to pass that gate.” “May I ask your name?” said the young man in the same cool tones, and with the same quiet smile. “What is my name to you?” “Well, not much, only I should like to know the title of so very amiable a person.” The other condescended to no reply, but walked his horse towards the gate. “Here, fellow!” he cried, addressing Tim. “Open this gate for me!”