"Set your dogs on a two-three sheep, an’ drive ’em downhill, an’ reckon to follow ’em," he whispered. "Then ye’ll meet Maister—an’ a word i’ his lug may save him fro’ a deal. An’ waste no time, for there’s none to be lessen." The lads, catching the spirit of it, had already got their dogs to work when Red Ratcliffe’s voice brought them to a sudden halt; for Ratcliffe, mistrusting fellows of Hiram’s kidney, had marked his whispering and guessed its purpose. "Come back, ye farm louts!" he cried, and turned to Hiram with a sneer. "Art fullish of wit, thou think’st? Dost mind how once before we matched wits, thou and I?" "I mind," said Hiram. "’Twas when I told ye where th’ Marsh peats war stored—but ye didn’t burn mich wi’ ’em, Maister, if I call to mind." Red Ratcliffe laughed at the retort; for his eyes were on the horseman down below, and his mood was almost playful now that his prey seemed like to come so tame to hand. "I’m flaired for th’ Maister this time, that I am," muttered Hiram, as he, too, glanced down the slope; "but being flaired niver saved onybody fro’ a bull’s horns, as th’ saying is, so I mun just bide still an’ keep my een oppen." The Ratcliffes passed a smile and a jest one to the other as they saw Shameless Wayne draw near and marked the heavy gloom that rested on him; for it pleased them that the man they loathed should have bitterness for his portion during the few moments he had yet to live. Wayne did not glance up the moor until he had ridden within ten-score yards of them. He half drew rein on seeing the seven red-headed horsemen waiting for him on the hill-crest; and Red Ratcliffe, thinking he meant to turn about, was just calling his kinsmen to pursue when he saw Wayne drive home his spurs and ride straight up to meet them. "Bide where ye are," said Red Ratcliffe then. "He’s courteous as ever, this fool of Marsh, and would not trouble us to gallop after him." "’Tis like him; he war allus obstinate as death, an’ wod be if th’ Lord o’ Hell stood up agen him," groaned Jose the shepherd, as he left the water and joined the knot of farm-folk who stood aloof, expectant, and doubtful for their own safety and the Master’s. "I give you good-day, Wayne of Marsh," called Red Ratcliffe. "I shall fare neither better nor worse for the same. What would you?" answered Wayne, halting at thrice a sword’s-length from the group. "Why, we would wash our sheep, and yonder rough-tongued hind of thine refused us. So, said I, as I saw you riding up the slope, ’We’ll ask the Master’s leave, and of his courtesy he’ll grant it.’" Shameless Wayne would never stoop to the Ratcliffe frippery of speech. "My courtesy takes no account of such as ye," he answered bluntly. "Think awhile!" went on the other gently. "These pools were made for Waynes and Ratcliffes both in the days before there was bad blood between us. ’Tis our right as well as yours to use it when we will."