The Lean Man fell into moodiness presently. From time to time he glanced at Robert, his eldest-born, and nodded; and from time to time he gave a laugh that was half a snarl; and Janet, watching his humour narrowly, lost even the pretence of high spirits which she had brought to meat. Her grandfather was planning mischief, as surely as a hawk meant death when it hung motionless above a cowering wild fowl; and the mischief would aim at Shameless Wayne; and she would have more than a love-errand to take her to the moors this afternoon. Dinner over, old Nicholas called for his horse and buckled his sword-belt on. "Come, wish me God-speed," he laughed, threading his arm through Janet’s. Janet shrank from him a little, but he was too intent on the matter in hand to notice aight amiss with her. "Wish him God-speed," she thought. "On such an errand? Nay but I’ll give God thanks that I made a tryst with Shameless Wayne—the Lean Man will scarce know where to look for him." "Come, Janet, hast no word? See the black mare, how eager she is to be off. She winds the scent of chase, I doubt." The girl was silent until her grandfather had gathered the reins into his hand. "Where—where do you ride, sir?" she stammered. The big bay horse—lean as its master, and every whit as tough—was pawing the courtyard stones impatiently. Old Nicholas swung to saddle, and looked down grimly, at his granddaughter. "A-hunting, as I told thee," he said. "What meat shall I bring back to the Wildwater larder?" "What you please, sir, so long as it be well come by," she answered, looking him hardily between the eyes. "It shall be well come by, lass," said the Lean Man, and cantered over the hill-crest.