"Then so much the less reason to put your trust in her," answered Mr. Baskerville. "She's a poor, untaught, savage thing at best. 'Tis madness to trust her, for nothing is weaker than she." "Nothing is stronger or so strong," declared Jack. "Nature knows what she wants, and she gets what she wants. You can't deny that. She's just, and never does nothing without a reason. Very different to a woman there. She'm digging her claws into your back because you've been doing some foolish thing, I'll warrant." He drank his tea and aired his opinions. But Mr. Baskerville was in no mood for Jack's philosophy. He retired presently with Rupert, stripped to the waist, and endured a great and forcible application of Mrs. Hacker's ointment. The friction brought comfort with it, and he declared himself better as a result. But he did not again descend from his chamber, and presently the three visitors departed together. Mr. Head expressed great admiration for Susan Hacker. "I should like to be better acquaint with that woman," he declared. "For sense in few words there's not her equal about." "If you want to please her, cuss Eliza Gollop," explained Rupert. CHAPTER VI The setting sun burnt upon Dewerstone's shoulder and beat in a sea of light against the western face of North Wood, until the wind-worn forest edge, taking colour on trunk and bough, glowed heartily. Already the first summer splendour was dimmed, for these lofty domains suffered full fret of storm and asperity of season. A proleptic instinct, stamped by the centuries, inspired this wood; it anticipated more sheltered neighbours in autumn, though it lagged behind them in spring. Upon its boughs the last vernal splendour fluttered into being, and the first autumnal stain was always visible. Now beech and larch revealed a shadow in their texture of leaf and needle though August had not passed, for their foliage was born into elemental strife. Here homed the west wind, and the salt south storms emptied their vials; here the last snows lingered, and May frost pinched the young green things. Now roseal and gracious light penetrated the heart of the wood, warmed its recesses, and dwelt upon a grass-grown track that wound through the midst. Toward this path by convergent ways there came a man and woman. As yet half a mile separated them, for they had entered the wood at opposite places; but one desire actuated both, and they moved slowly nearer until they met at a tryst in the deep heart of the trees. Undergrowth rose about them, and their resort was carefully chosen and perfectly concealed. Here oak closely clad the hill, and granite boulders offered an inner rampart against observation. The man and woman were elderly, yet she was still personable, and he retained a measure of unusual good looks. They came to perform a little rite, sacred and secret, an event celebrated these many years, and unknown to any other human beings but themselves.