XLII. THE CAVE 275 XLIII. AT COLPUS'S 282 XLIV. AGAIN-IRONSTONE 288 XLV. IN HOPE 294 XLVI. A TROUBLED HOPE 300 XLVII. BEFORE THE JUDGE 307 XLVIII. THE VERDICT 314 XLIX. WELCOME 321 L. MOVE ON 327 LI. THOR'S STONE AGAIN 334 LII. THE ROSE-CLOUD 341 THE BROOM-SQUIRE CHAPTER I. AT THE SIGN OF THE SHIP. On a September evening, before the setting of the sun, a man entered the tavern of the Ship in Thursley, with a baby under his arm. The tavern sign, rudely painted, bore, besides a presentment of a vessel, the inscription on one side of the board:-- "Now before the hill you climb, Come and drink good ale and wine." On the other side of the board the legend was different. It ran thus:-- "Now the hill you're safely over, Drink, your spirits to recover." The tavern stood on the high-road side between Godalming and Portsmouth; that is to say the main artery of communication between London and Portsmouth. After rising out of the rich overshadowed weald land, the road had crossed long sandy wastes, where population was sparse, where were no enclosures, no farms, only scattered Scottish firs; and in front rose the stately ridge of sandstone that culminates in Hind Head and Leith Hill. It was to prepare the wayfarer for a scramble to the elevation of a little over nine hundred feet that he was invited to "drink good ale and wine," or, if he were coming from the opposite direction was called upon to congratulate himself in a similar manner on having over-passed this ridge. The wayfarer with the baby under his arm came from the Godalming side. He looked up at the sign, which appealed at once to his heart, for he was obviously a sailor, no less than did the invitation commend itself to his condition. He entered, tumbled the baby on to the tavern table that was marked with wet rings from beer cans, and upset a saucer containing fly poison, and said, with a sigh of relief-- "There you are! Blowed and all of a lather!" He pulled out a blue cotton pocket-handkerchief, mopped his face and shouted, "Beer!" "Well, I never!" exclaimed the landlady. "Whoever heered afore or saw of a babby lugged about wrong side uppermost. What would you say if I was to bring you your tankard topsy-turvy?" "I wouldn't pay for it," said the sailor. "'Cos why?" asked the woman, planting herself arms akimbo, in front of the wayfarer. "'Cos it 'ud capsize the ale," he answered. "Very well, ain't babbies got no in'ards to capsize?" asked the landlady, defiantly. "And chucked in among the pison for killing them dratted flies, too!" "Never mind about the kid," said the man.