"Lumme, me lord!" whined the second man, a small, mean person. "What's ye game? She's ourn--we found 'er, Job an' me--seen 'er out in th' race, us did, floatin' s' pretty, an' folleyed 'er, us did, 'til she came ashore. She b'longs t' us, me lord, as Job'll swear--to diskiver a corp' means money, an' corpses, 'specially sich pretty 'uns, don't come often enough--" "Pah!" cried my uncle. "There is a hurdle over yonder, fetch it--you!" The bull-necked fellow rose, but, instead of complying, turned short and sprang, an open knife in his hand; my uncle Jervas stepped lightly aside, his long arm shot out, and the bull-necked man went down heavily; he was in the act of rising when my uncle set his foot upon the man's knife-hand, placidly crushed and crushed it until he roared, until the gripping fingers relaxed their hold, whereupon my uncle kicked the knife into the river. "And now--beast--fetch the hurdle yonder!" said he. So the men brought the hurdle and my uncle, stripping off his fine surtout, made therewith a pillow for the beautiful, piteous head. "And now, where shall we take her?" he demanded. "There's an ale-'us down yonder, me lord, nice an' 'andy," answered the little man. "Us gen'ally takes 'em theer." "Ah, do you mean you find many such?" "A tidy few, me lord, but not s' many as us could wish, d'ye see--" "Pah! Let us take her there. And be gentle with her." "Gentle!" growled the bull-necked man. "'Er's dead, ain't 'er--gentle!" So we moved off in mournful procession until we came to a small waterside tavern, whose inmates my uncle peremptorily awakened, and soon had forth a gruff, sleepy fellow to show the way and unlock a tumble-down outhouse, into which they bore their silent burden, followed by my uncle, bareheaded. As for me, I walked to and fro in the sunshine, feeling myself cold and shivering. At last I heard the doors close and turning, beheld my uncle's tall, immaculate figure striding towards me. "A sad sight, Perry, a dismal, woeful sight--and on such a glorious morning. Come, let us go." So saying, he put on his hat, sternly refusing the offer of my outer coat, and taking my arm, we began to retrace our steps. Suddenly he checked, and feeling in his pocket, brought forth that crumpled wisp of paper and, smoothing it out, glanced at it and I saw his eyes grow suddenly fierce. "Haredale!" said he thoughtfully. "Haredale?" and passed the paper to me whereon I read these words, blotched with water, yet still legible: You are unreasonable, but this is feminine. You anger me, but this is natural. You weary me--and this is fatal. Adieu, HAREDALE. "Haredale!" said I. "Haredale?" sighed my uncle. "The name is unfamiliar, I know none of the name in London. Do you, Peregrine?"