"Well, ye shall try the truth of it by an’ by—for ye crossed th’ Dog, Nicholas Ratcliffe, when ye came down to nail your token to th’ Marsh doorway. I war watching by th’ dead man, an’ I heard Barguest come whimper-whimper down th’ lane; an’ then he scratted like a wild thing at th’ panels; an’ after that he ligged him down on the door-stun." Nanny paused a moment, watching how the Lean Man took it. "Ay, and then?" said Nicholas. He would fain have sounded merry, but his voice came dry and harsh. "Then a man came riding up o’ horseback, an’ leaped to ground, an’ reached ower th’ Brown Dog to nail a man’s hand to th’ door. An’ _ye_ war th’ horseman, Nicholas Ratcliffe." Once only the Lean Man glanced at her; then set spurs to his great bay horse and clattered up the street, his son following close behind. At the end of half-a-mile they slackened pace, as if by joint consent; but neither sought the other’s eyes. "What ails thee, fool?" said Nicholas to his eldest-born. "Naught, sir—’twas not I who fled from a crook-backed beldame," sneered the other. The Lean Man turned on him, glad of an excuse for bluster. "Thou dar’st to say I fled?" he cried. "Thou, who wast sucking at the breast while I grew old in fight?—There, lad! ’Twas a madness in the blood that fell on us just now. What’s Barguest that he should spoil a bonnie plan? Are we not sending Wayne to his last home to-night?" "We have planned as much," said Robert slowly, "but——" "Ay, but—and ’but’ again in thy teeth. We have him, I tell thee—Red Ratcliffe should be somewhere hereabouts by now, learning what I have sent him out to learn." "We can learn all that, and yet not use the knowledge right," said Robert sullenly. Even yet he could see Nanny’s face, could hear her voice, and he was angered by the fear they bred in him. "That’s as may be," said Nicholas grimly—"but if he brings the news I think he will the devil keep young Wayne of Marsh, for he’ll need some such sort of aid.—Who is yond lubberly farm-hind, climbing up the wall this side the road? His slouch is woundily familiar." Like his son, the Lean Man had felt the sting of Nanny’s words, though he was minded to make light of it; and no better proof of his humour was needed than the quick ill-tempered eye he had for trifles. "It looks like Hiram Hey—one of Wayne’s folk, and a pesty fellow with his tongue. We’ve found him more than once cutting peats from the Wildwater land, and more than once we’ve fallen foul of him." "Have ye?" said Nicholas quietly. "Well, he did us a service there, may be; and the more peats they coane at Marsh, the better ’twill be for us to-night.—Come, lad; ’tis gallop now, and a truce to that old wife’s foolery."