"Mr. Prout said something about the beasts," he explained, slowly. "'Twas my hope, master, as you'd put a bit of trust in me, seeing my papers." "I put trust in everybody. You'll never find a more trustful man. It's a secret of farming to trust--when you can." "But I had the handling of a power of things at Postbridge." "So you will have with me." "A man an' a boy under my orders, too." Woodrow laughed. "I see. You'll only have three dogs under your orders here." "Not that I want----" "Yes, you do--we all do. You'll get power enough, Brendon, if 'tis in you. Power comes out of ourselves. Go ahead and do your work. Perhaps, six months hence, you'll be so powerful that we shall have to part company--eh?" "I know my job very well." "Of course you do. I shouldn't want you otherwise. If your will is as strong as your legs and arms, you ought to have a farm of your own before long. How old are you?" "Twenty-five, master." "I'd give Ruddyford twice over to have your limbs." "They are so good as yours, while you pay for 'em." "Go ahead, then. Take a tramp round before dinner, and see what you think of those heifers up the hill. I've had an offer for them, but don't feel quite satisfied. Tell me what you reckon they are worth--taking the whole five-and-twenty together." In two minutes Daniel was away with a couple of sheepdogs after him. He reflected on this, his first piece of work, and it pleased him. He was an accurate judge of stock and knew that he could estimate very closely the value of the heifers. CHAPTER III A THEATRE OF FAILURE With his thoughts for company Brendon strode upon an errand to the high Moor. He had been at Ruddyford a fortnight, and liked the people, but his master troubled him, for he did not understand Mr. Woodrow's attitude. The farmer's silence puzzled Daniel more than hard words had done. His consolation was that a like reticence and apparent indifference were displayed to all. [Illustration: THE OLD PEAT WORKS]