"Let ’em crop for owt I care. What’s comed to th’ Marsh kennels that ye mud needs go borrowing?" "Hemlock has come to them, and there’s not one left alive." Hiram Hey whistled softly, and set down his candle and came out into the moonlight. "That’s not a bad start for a war finish," he said, turning his head to the low hill which hid the house from him, as if expecting some sound of tumult. "Well, ’tis done, and we’re missing sport the while," said Griff, with a lad’s peremptoriness. "I can hear those dogs of thine yelping in the yard yonder. Loose them, Hiram." Hiram did as he was bid, with many a grumble by the way; then stood and watched the lads go racing over the pastures, the dogs running fast in front of them. "There’s bahn to be trouble, choose who hears me say ’t," he muttered. "Ay, I knew how ’twould be when I see’d young Maister fly-by-skying wi’ yond Ratcliffe wench; ’tis a judgment on him, sure. Ay, ’tis a judgment; an’ hard it is that we should be killed i’ our beds for sake of a lad’s unruliness.—What, th’ dogs is gi’eing tongue already? Well, I’d hev liked to see th’ sport, if my legs war a thowt less stalled wi’ wark." Hiram had been asleep a good two hours before the chase was over. Pasture after pasture was drawn, the lads’ zest waxing keener with each fresh kill, until they had more hares than they could carry. "Look at the moon, lads! She’s nearing Worm’s Hill already, and half a league from home," panted Griff, as he tried to add the last hare to his load. "Ned will have somewhat to say to this," laughed Rob; "but faith ’twas worth all the scolding he can cram into a week." "Ay, was it, but we’ll put the best foot forward now. Let’s leave half the hares under the sheep-hole in the wall yonder, or we shall never get back to Marsh till midnight.—There. They’ll keep till morning safe enough, unless some shepherd’s dog should nose them." They set off at a steady trot, stopped at the Low Farm to close the yard gate on their borrowed dogs, and then took a straight course for Marsh. But breath failed them as they neared the homestead; their pace dwindled to a walk, and not even noisy Rob could muster speech of any sort. The moon was out of sight now behind the house, leaving the field that hugged the outbuildings in a grey half-light—a light so puzzling to the eyes that Griff, when he thought he saw the dim figure of a man crossing from the peat-shed to the yard, told himself that fancy was playing tricks with him. But Rob had seen the figure, too, and he clutched his brother’s arm. "What is that moving yonder?" he whispered.