Lovey Lee meantime flung herself into the matter with great mental zest and an itching palm. Come what might, a lively promise of money rose out of this remarkable accident, and she foresaw encounters such as her soul loved between the strong and the feeble. Peter Norcot and Maurice Malherb were upon one side; Grace and the boy upon the other. Her natural instinct drew her to the powerful and the rich; then she reflected that in the long run Grace Malherb herself might prove the best mistress to follow. All depended upon the young woman's attitude towards John Lee's information; for that he would tell her the truth Lovey perceived, and that the girl's decision would presently reach her own ears she was also assured. Dismissing the matter, therefore, she returned to her former problems, and speculated how to convince the American prisoners that she had acted in good faith, and that the traitor to the enterprise must be sought inside the War Prison, and not outside it. CHAPTER IX GRACE MALHERB HEARS THE NEWS Harvey Woodman was ploughing with a team of six bullocks, and as he plodded behind them over the burnt ground, he sang a strange song understanded of the cattle. It cheered them at their toil, and the low, monotonous notes sometimes broke suddenly, and leapt abruptly a whole octave upward. When the song stopped, the steers also stopped, nor would they resume their labour until the ploughman returned to his music. Beside Woodman tramped his son to turn the team when necessary. But they made poor ploughing through the heavy and ill-drained ground, and Maurice Malherb, who watched the operations from a distance, was alive to the fact. His personal unwisdom prompted the enterprise, for he was engaged in attempting to reclaim land that defied the effort; but, as usual, he set all blame upon other shoulders than his own. Now he approached Mr. Woodman and accosted him. "You're not getting what you might out of those brutes. If you'd sing less and watch your work closer----" "Ban't that, your honour--devil a bit will they go unless a man chants their proper song to 'em. 'Tis the nature of the earth, not the cattle." "Nonsense. The land is no worse than the rest aloft there, that I've drained and pared and turned into fine fallow. The cattle go uneasily. I'll wager that fool blacksmith at Prince Town shoed them ill." He examined the hoof of an ox as he spoke. The inside claws behind were left unprotected, but the outer ones had been carefully shod with iron. Malherb perceived that the work was good. "Then he threw them carelessly, I'll wager. These big steers should be thrown with the greatest skill." "To be just, your honour, 'twas very cleverly done, for I helped myself," answered Woodman.