ing to be.'

'Make him turn the brook back first, Master Richard,' said Ichabod. The
two were almost at the bridge by this time, and the listener could hear
distinctly.

'Turn the brook back?' the boy asked. 'What do you mean, Ichabod?'

'Ax thy feyther, when thee gettest home,' answered Ichabod. 'He'll tell
thee all the rights on it. So fur as I can make out--and it was the talk
o' the country i' my grandfeyther's daysen--it amounts to this. Look
here! 'He and the boy arrested their steps on the bridge, and Ichabod
pointed along the frozen track of the brook. 'Seest that hollow ten rods
off? It was in the time o' Cromwell Hast heard tell o' Cromwell, I mek
no doubt?'

'Oliver Cromwell,' said Master Richard. 'He was Lord Protector of
England. He fought King Charles.'

'Like enough,' said Ichabod. 'In his daysen, many 'ears ago, there was
the Reddys here and the Mountains there'--indicating either house in
turn by pointing with his thumb--'just as they be now. The Reddy o' that
day--he was thy grandfeyther's grand-feyther as like as not--maybe
he was _his_ grandfeyther for aught as I can tell, for it's a
deadly-dreadful heap o' time long past--the Reddy o' that day went to
the wars, and fowt for Cromwell. The Mountain o' that time stopped at
hum. Up to then they'd niver been misfriended as fur as I know. That's
how it's put about, anyway. But whilst the Reddy was away what's the
Mountain do?'

The boy was looking at Ichabod, and Ichabod, stooping a little to be the
more impressive, was looking at him. The surly-faced man with the gun
had hitherto been concealed by the hedge beside which he had knelt to
fasten his gaiter, and neither of the two had suspected his presence. It
was natural, therefore, that both of them should start a little when his
voice reached them.

'Well?' The voice was sour and surly, like the face, and the word was
rapped out sharp and clear. Master Richard and Ichabod turned with one
accord. 'Well?' says the surly man, 'what does the Mountain do?'

Ichabod, less discomfited by the suddenness of the interruption than
might have been expected of him, rubbed the frozen base of his nose with
a cold forefinger and grinned. Master Richard looked from one to the
other with a frank and fearless interest and inquiry which became him
very prettily. The surly man bestowed a passing scowl upon him, and
turned his angry regard again upon Ichabod.

'Come, now,' he said, 'you backbiting, scandal-mongerin