ith a laugh. The dog paused irresolute, then, with
a wicked growl, it turned back and sought again the girl's caressing
hand.

"One of these days I'll give you something to snarl at, you d----d
cur," Hervey said, between his clenched teeth. Then he turned at the
sound of his mother's voice. The old lady was standing in the kitchen
doorway.

"What's all the fuss about?" she asked, turning her round eyes from
one to the other. "Quarrelling again, I'll be bound. Breakfast's
ready, so just come in, both of you, or the 'slap-jacks' 'll all be
spoiled."

Prudence glanced covertly in the dog's direction as she obeyed the
summons. She was fearful that the brute contemplated a further attack
upon its master. In spite of the constant bickerings which took place
between these two, the girl had no desire that her brother should be
hurt.

Hervey spoke not a word during the morning meal, except to demand the
food he required, and his surliness had a damping effect on those
about him, and it was with a sigh of relief that his mother at last
rose from the table and began to gather the plates preparatory to
clearing away. Once, as Hervey moved slowly towards the door to return
to his guns, she looked as though she were going to speak. But the
words died on her lips, and she ambled off to the wash-house without
speaking.

The atmosphere cleared when Hervey mounted his horse and rode off. His
mother looked after him, sighed and shrugged; then she went on with
her work with a touch of her old cheerful manner about her. No
complaint ever passed her lips, but, to those who knew the kindly old
face, the change that had come over it was very apparent. The smooth
forehead was ploughed deeply with wrinkles which were new to it, and
the eyes had lost something of their expression of placid content.

But Hervey travelled his own road at his own gait. His thoughts he
kept to himself. The man was more or less inscrutable to those about
him.

To-day he had taken his dog with him. He had at length made up his
mind to rid himself of the brute. The exhibition of that morning had
decided him upon a course which he had long meditated, but had always
failed to carry out when the critical moment arrived.

The hound limped along beside its master's horse as they plunged into
the deep woods of the Owl Hoot Valley. Nor did he show the least sign
of wishing to wander from "heel." He followed on the beaten track,
stubbornly keeping pace with the hors