But a controversy gathered in the eyes of the miller’s man. “That dog’s worth all the ’gyptians and vagrants and seamen between here and London town! If you think you’re going round murdering dogs—” “I think,” said Gervaise, “that I’ve in my pouch a crown piece which I got of a gentleman for a parrokeet and an Indian pipe. Let’s see if ’t won’t salve that muzzle.” He drew it forth and turned it to and fro in the moonlight. “Ask the dog. Hark’ee! He says, ‘Take it, and let harmless sailor folk pass!’” He slid it into the peasant’s hand, who stood looking down upon it with a dawning grin. “Cross this bridge,” asked Gervaise, “and we’ll be in the path to the village?” “Aye, aye,” answered the fellow. “If you be harmful folk, let them find it out there!—Be you sure this piece is good? You ben’t coiners or passers?” “We ben’t,” said Gervaise. “The piece is as good as the new breeches it will buy.” They recrossed the bridge, stepping from it into the wood already traversed. The boy’s shrill voice came to them from across the stream. “Father, father! They’re four, and ’twas four the man told us broke gaol! They ben’t sailors—they be the witches!” His voice took a bewildered tone. “Only one of them was a woman—and they’re going toward the town—” “What I be going to do,” answered the man, “is to go up t’ the house and waken miller—” The dogs were still barking. The boy’s voice rose shriller and shriller. “I know they’re witches! They had glowing eyes and they were taller than people—” The four plunged more deeply into the wood. The confused sound died behind them. They went up the stream a mile, came upon a track that ran down to stepping-stones, crossed the water for the second time, and once more faced seaward; then after a time turned at right angles and so struck the road again, the village well passed. But the détour had cost them heavily in time. Moreover, even in the night-time, there grew a feeling of folk aware, of movement, a fear of eyes, of a sudden shout of arrest.... They heard behind them a trampling of horses’ hoofs, together with voices. There was just time to break into a friendly thicket by the roadside, and crouch there among the hazel stems, out of the moonlight. There came by a party of men, some a-horseback, some on foot. “Four,” said one distinctly. “Shall we beat that thicket?” “They couldn’t have gotten this far.” “I’ll ride through it to make sure—”