e seen; and that he might just as well be seen
by day as by night. John would not listen to reason. That very night, as
soon as dark came on, he went out, and _was_ seen. Seen by Robin Frost.

Robin Frost, whatever superstitions or fond feelings he may have
cherished regarding the hoped-for reappearance of Rachel's spirit, was
no believer in ghosts in a general point of view. In fact, that it was
John Massingbird's ghost never once entered Robin's mind. He came at
once to the more sensible conclusion that some error had occurred with
regard to his reported death, and that it was John Massingbird himself.

His deadly enemy. The only one, of all the human beings upon earth, with
whom Robin was at issue. For he believed that it was John Massingbird
who had worked the ill to Rachel. Robin, in his blind vengeance, took to
lying in wait with a gun: and Roy became cognisant of this.

"You must not go out again, sir," he said to John Massingbird; "he may
shoot you dead."

Curious, perhaps, to say, John Massingbird had himself come to the same
conclusion--that he must not go out again. He had very narrowly escaped
meeting one who would as surely have known him, in the full moonlight,
as did Robin Frost; one whom it would have been nearly as inconvenient
to meet, as it was Robin. And yet, stop in perpetual confinement by day
and by night, he could not; he persisted that he should be dead--almost
better go back, unsatisfied, to Australia.

A bright idea occurred to John Massingbird. He would personate his
brother. Frederick, so far as he knew, had neither creditors nor enemies
round Deerham; and the likeness between them was so great, both in face
and form, that there would be little difficulty in it. When they were at
home together, John had been the stouter of the two: but his wanderings
had fined him down, and his figure now looked exactly as Frederick's did
formerly. He shaved off his whiskers--Frederick had never worn any; or,
for the matter of that, had had any to wear--and painted an imitation
star on his cheek with Indian-ink. His hair, too, had grown long on the
voyage, and had not yet been cut; just as Frederick used to wear his.
John had favoured a short crop of hair; Frederick a long one.

These little toilette mysteries accomplished, so exactly did he look
like his brother Frederick, that Roy started when he saw him; and Mrs.
Roy went into a prolonged scream that might have been heard at the
brick-fields. John at