“Mark this corner of the brushwood,” said Nicholas, “that you may not miss your way as you return to-night; for we now leave the road, and cross the common to those trees where the brushwood closes in again. The Plashetts lie very nearly due east of Fisherton, and the carriage road is a mile round. From those trees there is an avenue leading directly to the house.” Warenne took due note of the bearings of the ground, and they proceeded. When they had passed over a considerable portion of the common, the turf, which hitherto had been soft and swampy, became firm; and Warenne, whose powers of observation had been called into play by Nicholas’s late caution, remarked that it bore signs of having been much trodden. “Have you had a fair here, or races?” asked he of Nicholas. “No,” was the reply; “the sheep, I believe, keep unmolested possession of the common from year’s end to year’s end. But why do you inquire?” Warenne simply answered that the grass appeared trampled, and turned the conversation. They soon reached the Plashetts; and Nicholas, the elder, greeted his son’s friend with a hearty welcome. He was a cheerful, light-hearted old gentleman, and the evening passed pleasantly, if not gaily. About ten o’clock Warenne remounted his horse, and at a gentle pace began to retrace his road to Fisherton. The moon was just rising, but it was a cloudy night, and a sharp south-wester blew directly in his face. As he entered the avenue he could not help recalling to mind the state of the grass on the firmer part of the common; his reflections upon it caused him some anxiety. He had never, he thought, seen ground so trodden, but on places where soldiers were drilled and exercised. Could it be that there was truth in the report which he had heard, that the labourers held nightly meetings for the purpose of training themselves to the use of arms? As the idea presented itself, he hugged the trees to the southward more closely, so as to envelope himself completely in their shade. Presently he fancied that he heard in the wind the sounds of steps and voices. He stopped, and listened with attention, and soon became certain of the fact; they seemed however to proceed from persons at some distance. He advanced slowly, trusting to the wind to drown the noise of his horse’s hoofs. Again he stopped,—the sounds reached him more plainly. Using now still greater caution, he pushed forward towards the edge of the common, and he there beheld the realisation of his worst fears. By the light of the moon, which fell fully and clearly on the open space, he saw a considerable body of men, marching backwards and forwards, dividing and subdividing themselves, then reuniting again; in a word, going through a regular system of drill, though not perhaps with military exactness. He watched them for some time, endeavouring to ascertain their number, &c. &c. till he conceived it likely that they would soon disperse.