ll that led to the City Beautiful. The Hill Difficulty it was called.
I expect this is it. Come on, Joan; we're almost there! Then we'll never
be tired any more, but 'reign, reign for aye.'"

At that moment the children heard steps behind them, and looked round to
see, only a few yards away, an ugly red-haired man, with a curious
crooked eye and evil face, and a tall, sturdy woman with gleaming teeth,
dusky locks, and crimson cheeks. He had seen them before, Darby
remembered all at once, hanging about the back gate at Copsley Farm one
day when he was peeping from the skylight in the stable loft. They must
be the gipsies who had been haunting Copsley Wood; and the brave boy
drew his sister closer to his side, as if with his own small body he
would shield her from all harm.

"Good-evenin', my little dears," spoke the man's gruff voice right above
Darby's head.

"Good-evening," answered the boy courteously, at the same time
instinctively putting up his hand in order to raise his hat in the
direction of Moll's flashing eyes. But there was no hat there, so he
gave her a military salute instead.

"My, you are a rum un!" laughed the lady, looking admiringly upon the
charming child.--"You're right, as usual, Joe Harris," she whispered,
turning to her husband. "Them's the style for the Satellite Company! The
silk gownd an' the shiner's mine; you can buy them soon's you please."

So saying, Moll snatched the screaming Joan clean out of her brother's
encircling arms, raised her to her breast, and completely smothered the
frightened child's sobs in the folds of her old scarlet shawl.

The after-glow had faded from out the west; the hilltops seemed bare and
brown. The gates of the city were closed, thought Darby, and his lips
quivered in disappointment as they had not done from fright. The moon
now sailed slowly on her way through a placid sea of pearly sky. Her
beams flooded the fields with a soft, pure radiance; they lingered over
the sluggish waters of the canal until they shone with light and
borrowed beauty. Everything was quiet; all around was peace.

Darby boldly stood his ground, and manfully faced his foes. Yet, with
the wicked countenance of Joe Harris bending over him, with Joan's
stifled cries beating in his ears, it was impossible to do anything more
than _seem_ brave; and the plucky little lad's face blanched paler than
the moonbeams, while his heart stood still with nameless fear.

CHAPTER VIII.

BAMBO