The moon was crisp and clear over the low pastures when Griff and his brothers went down for the hunting. Wayne of Cranshaw had hit the truth when he said that they feared denial from Shameless Wayne, and so had slipped out quietly while their elders were discussing the old vexed topic as to whether Marsh should be left to its fate. "Ned will not leave the old place," said Griff, as they crossed the first field. "Not while he has us to help him to fight," answered Bob, the youngest, drawing himself to as full a height as his fourteen years allowed. "There’s naught in it," grumbled a third. "Ned would not let us go to the kirkyard that day, and there was a merry fight—and now all’s as tame as a chushat on the nest. I thought the Lean Man would come down and let us have a spear-thrust at him; but we never see a Ratcliffe now, and ’tis hard after learning so many tricks of fence." "Bide awhile," answered Griff sagely. "There’ll be frolic yet if we can but wait for it. Dost think they poisoned the dogs for naught?" "For spleen, likely, because Ned worsted them the other day; but if they do no more than that—Griff, ’twould have been rare sport to have gone up to Wildwater to-night." Griff halted and glanced wistfully at the surly crest of moor above. "Nay; we gave our promise," he said, with manifest reluctance. "How are we to hunt without the dogs?" put in Rob. "We left all our weapons in hall when we crept out so hastily—Good hap, there goes a fine fat fellow! We’re missing the best of the moonlight with all this talk of a Lean Man who never shows his face." They all four stood and watched the hare swing up the field and over the misty crest; knobby and big and brown the beast showed, and his stride was like the uneasy gallop of a horse whose knees are stiffening. "We’ll miss no more such chances," cried Griff. "There are two dogs at the Low Farm; let’s rouse old Hiram Hey out of his bed and get the loan of them." Hiram Hey was not abed, as it chanced, but a rushlight was in his hands and his foot on the bottom stair when Griff’s masterful rat-tat sounded on the door. "What’s agate?" he growled, opening the door a couple of inches. "Christian folk should be ligged i’ bed by now, i’stead o’ coming an’ scaring peaceable bodies out o’ their wits——" "Thou’st little wit to be scared out of, Hiram," laughed Rob. The door opened a foot-breadth wider. "Oh, it’s ye, is ’t? Ay, there’s shameless doings now up at Marsh. I’ th’ owd Maister’s days ye’d hev been abed at sunset, that ye wod." "We carry arms now, and know how to use them; so keep a civil tongue in thy tousled head," said Griff, with a great air of dignity. "We want to borrow thy dogs, Hiram." "Oh, that’s it? Well, how if th’ dogs are anot to be hed at ony lad’s beck an’ call?" "We’ll take them without a by-your-leave in that case. Come, Hiram, the hares are cropping moon-grass so ’twould make thy old mouth water just to see them."