“I stand by my father’s work, of course!” he said cheerfully, and with a passionate exclamation Brack sank into his seat. And then old Wolf spoke again. “And now you’ll let me the Pride, Mr. Lancaster!” He turned to the other question with a start. Wolf and his worries had been out of his mind for the moment. Now they wove a thread in the weft of his father’s warp. He hedged, trying to put the point aside. “Come, Wolf, I’d hopes you’d change your mind! It isn’t fair to your wife--I tell you that plainly.” Wolf set his mouth. “That’s neither here nor there!” he said doggedly. “It’s betwixt her an’ me. I’m asking for the Pride. I’d a reason for wanting it afore. I’ve a double reason now. You an’ me an’ the old master, we’ve passed our word for the Lugg. I’ll fly that flag for the whole marsh to lift its hat! Let me the Pride!” He leaned forward, holding out his hand in his desire, and Brack leaned, too. “You’d better go the whole hog!” he sneered. “Here’s the proof of your trusting. Give him the Pride!” The agent hesitated, cornered and distressed. Before his troubled vision rose a fearful old woman, terrified to madness when the tide came in. “His wife----” he began again, and Brack leaped down his throat with a second jeer. “Oh, put it on the missis! I guess a bad excuse is better than none. Come, man, own out that you’re not honest, or else--let him the Pride!” “He’s all in!” he added, turning to Wolf with a laugh. “Look at him! He’s chilled right through. He’ll not give it you--not on your life!” “Ay, but he will!” Wolf said quietly, his hand outstretched. “It’s to be yes, sir, isn’t it? Isn’t it, Mr. Lancaster?” And Lanty said yes. * * * * * Out in the yard, by Bluecaster’s wheel, revulsion swept over him. The weight he had lifted pressed hard. He looked up sharply. “You trust me too much! Will you never see a thing with your own eyes? Suppose I’m wrong, after all?” Bluecaster, reins in hand, looked down at him with a shamed bitterness in his face. “It’s better to be wrong and a sportsman than a cur that won’t face the drain! I wish to God, Lancaster, you were my elder brother!” Lanty rode after him across the marsh, his foreboding heart in his stirrups. But as he began to climb at last, and the whole panorama of eastern hills came into view, his burden dropped from him. The die was cast. None but a coward would wish it back. What would come, must. He would rest content. He could see the Whygills curled asleep on the horizon, like giant elephants cuddled trunk to trunk, their soft, velvet, wrinkled backs hunched into the tender sky. Below them the heather glowed pink and rich on the dark ridges of moor. He drew a deep breath as he rode forward, his heart eased. Yet he had taken not only the whole of the marsh, but Bluecaster himself into his hands. CHAPTER X TERROR BY NIGHT