Excitement and cold, however, kept him awake for hours and it was not till far on in the night that he fell asleep. When he awoke it was broad day, although still early. “I have slept too long,” he thought; “it was a pity I did not fall asleep earlier.” He peeped out and there was nobody in sight, so he softly stole away toward the road. But he had not gone fifty yards, before the thundering voice of the reeve, his particular enemy, called out,--“Hulloo there, I see you sneaking round, you young thief. But you will not hide from us again, I’ll warrant.” The reeve started running and Wilfred took to his heels. The reeve was a powerful athletic fellow, but Wilfred was light and nimble. He dodged under a fence that the reeve had some difficulty in surmounting, and in that way gained a little at the start. For a time the distance between them did not alter, both were holding themselves in reserve; then it occurred to Wilfred to turn up hill; he might not be so strong, but his wind would be better. The reeve puffed and panted after the boy, who steadily increased his lead. When Wilfred reached the top of the slope he glanced round, the reeve was far behind; then he plunged down the hill where there was a burn at the bottom, and splashed through it with some difficulty, as the water was up to his waist and the bank on the other side was steep. The reeve gained during the process and, being taller, made light work of the burn and was close behind. Terror lent wings to the boy’s feet but the reeve slowly overhauled him and could almost reach him with his arm. Wilfred could hear his loud breathing just behind him, when the reeve, tripping over a root, not only fell headlong but rolled into a ditch. Wilfred laughed and fled like the wind; there was a thick wood not a hundred yards away and he would be safe. His adversary picked himself up and was just in time to see Wilfred approaching the wood. He would easily have escaped, but another man appeared coming out of the wood at the same moment. “Catch him, Joseph,” yelled the reeve, and the exhausted boy fell an easy prey to the newcomer. The reeve was considerably hurt by his fall and it greatly increased his anger. “Where have you been, you young rascal,” he roared, “and what have you done with the sheep you stole?” “I never stole a sheep,” said Wilfred indignantly, “and it is no business of yours where I have been.” “Oh, isn’t it; we’ll soon see about that. Do you know what happens to boys who steal sheep?” said the reeve vindictively. Wilfred was silent. “Come now, what happens to boys who steal sheep?” he went on with malicious glee. Wilfred was still silent. “You need not be so proud; come answer my question,” and taking the boy’s arm he twisted it round till the tears stood in his eyes, but he restrained himself from crying out. “What happens to boys who steal sheep?” “They are hanged,” said Wilfred at last; “but I have not stolen sheep or anything,” he said doggedly.