"There's only one thing to be done," said my sire, when I had told my story. "Our course is clear. I must at once to Burnplatts and see that misguided youth, Ephraim, and impress it upon him that he must pretermit the October Fair, or if that be not practicable, must return home by some other route, be it never so ungain; indeed, the ungainer the better. Likewise I can improve the occasion by enjoining him to abandon courses that expose him to the guile and snares of the officers of the law. Perchance the seed may fall upon prepared ground. Though truth to say I do not at the moment recall any text of the Scriptures that seems to be directed at the poachers of wild game. Though to be sure the Psalmist's prayer, 'Pull me out of the net that they have laid privily for me: for thou art my strength,' seems apt. Yes, assuredly, it fits the occasion like the heft to the blade. Let me see, I could divide my discourse as follows..." And the excellent pastor was already busy in his thoughts projecting the word in season. "But, father," quote Ruth, "what about the Bradburys?" "Aye, aye, to be sure, my daughter. You do well to recall me to a pressing duty. I must from Burnplatts to the Moorcock Inn and beard the lion, nay the lion and his whelp, in their den. Here, happily, I shall go armed with the sword of the Word, for it teemeth with denunciations of those who bear false witness against their neighbours, and tells how the counsels of the wicked shall be brought to nought. To be sure Bill's o' Jack's is out of my parish, yet where the wicked are to be thwarted who shall set bounds and measures for the servant of the Lord?" And my father glared enquiringly round the room, as though challenging an imaginary audience to deny his right to speak the Word in season when and where he would. Of his right within the wide expanse watered by the Colne he made no question--he had come to regard it as his spiritual own, his vineyard, his parish. "That's all very well, father," commented Ruth, "and doubtless you could speak to the Burnplatters and the Bradburys to their eternal profit. But I've a better plan; one that will keep Ephraim Sykes out of harm and cover those who plot his destruction with confusion. Now you two, listen to me. A woman's wit, you know, can jump over a wall whilst a man is groping round for a gate."