"Wayne of Marsh, cousin, is a better fighter, and of a more cleanly courtesy than thou," said she, with a hard laugh. "No wonder the thought of him is bitter—the carrion crow likes not the eagle, does it?" He turned on her, his hand uplifted, but she eluded him. And then he let slip, in the heat of jealousy what prudence would have checked. "The carrion-crow, for all that, will be bosom comrade to him before long," he cried. "’Twas pleasant to see the Lean Man so full of cheeriness? But what did it mean, girl? Why, that he saw a way to snare thy fool of Marsh." For a moment she faltered; but her pride in Wayne of Marsh, which was comrade always to her love for him, steadied her fear of coming evil. "Ye have hatched plans aforetime," she answered quietly—"at the burial in Marshcotes kirkyard, and when ye got fire to help cold steel at Marsh. And Red Ratcliffe, if I recall, fled each time that Wayne showed a sword-point to him." His freckled, wind-raw face was ill to look upon, and in among his speech the wildest curses of the hillside slipped and stumbled. "I fled from the Brown Boggart, not from Wayne—but the Dog will sleep one day, and then ’twill be my turn, man to man.—Ay, I’ll tell thee just what is afoot, and thou shall have that to give thee courage when the Lean Man rails at thee. Suppose Wayne has a farm called Bents close up to Wildwater? Suppose old Nicholas, passing yester-even, saw that the storms had riven half the roof-slates off, and twitted the farmer with Wayne’s slovenliness?" "’Twould not be like grandfather to pass without such raillery. Ay, sir, go on." Janet was watching him narrowly, letting his unclean oaths drift past her, and hearkening only to what lay under them. And he, eager to wound her at any cost, went blindly on. "Suppose the farmer, all in the way of those who have dealings with the young Master just as Hiram Hey did when I tried the same trick on him, and telling Nicholas that Shameless Wayne himself was coming up this week to see to the mending of the roof?" "On what day does he come?" asked Janet softly. "I’ll tell thee that after we’ve met him on the road—and, as thou’rt kindly toward him, I’ll bring thee back some pretty love-token. What shall it be, Janet—a drabbled lock of hair, or——" "They name thee cruel, cousin—but I think thou hast been very kind just now," she interposed. "God’s faith, art witless altogether?" he cried, dumbfounded by her hardiness. "Nay, for I’ve learned what will serve one I love. Get thee back to Wildwater, cousin, with thy tale-bearing. ’Tis thou and I now, a man against a maid, and the thought of fighting thee is physic to my blood." He saw now into what folly he had been betrayed. She would seek out Shameless Wayne, and one more attempt to rid them of their enemy would be defeated. "Thou’lt not—not dare to warn him," he stammered.