them. He was dressed in flour sacks like the
others, and he leaned on his broad-axe, but the children, who knew all
the wood gangs, knew he was a stranger. In his size and oily hairiness
he might have been Bunny Lewknor's brother, except that his brown eyes
were as soft as a spaniel's, and his rounded black beard, beginning
close up under them, reminded Una of the walrus in _The Walrus and the
Carpenter_.

'Don't he just about know?' he said shyly, and shifted from one foot to
the other.

'Yes. "What Cattiwow can't get out of the woods must have roots growing
to her"'--Dan had heard old Hobden say this a few days before.

At that minute Puck pranced up, picking his way through the pools of
black water in the ling.

'Look _out_!' cried Una, jumping forward. 'He'll see you, Puck!'

'Me and Mus' Robin are pretty middlin' well acquainted,' the man
answered with a smile that made them forget all about walruses.

'This is Simon Cheyneys,' Puck began, and cleared his throat.
'Shipbuilder of Rye Port; burgess of the said town, and the only----'

'Oh, look! Look ye! That's a knowing one,' said the man. Cattiwow had
fastened his team to the thin end of the log, and was moving them about
with his whip till they stood at right angles to it, heading downhill.
Then he grunted. The horses took the strain, beginning with Sailor next
the log, like a tug-of-war team, and dropped almost to their knees. The
log shifted a nail's breadth in the clinging dirt, with the noise of a
giant's kiss.

'You're getting her!' Simon Cheyneys slapped his knee. 'Hing on! Hing
on, lads, or she'll master ye! Ah!'

Sailor's left hind hoof had slipped on a heather-tuft. One of the men
whipped off his sack apron and spread it down. They saw Sailor feel for
it, and recover. Still the log hung, and the team grunted in despair.

'Hai!' shouted Cattiwow, and brought his dreadful whip twice across
Sailor's loins with the crack of a shot-gun. The horse almost screamed
as he pulled that extra last ounce which he did not know was in him. The
thin end of the log left the dirt and rasped on dry gravel. The butt
ground round like a buffalo in his wallow. Quick as an axe-cut, Lewknor
snapped on his five horses, and sliding, trampling, jingling, and
snorting, they had the whole thing out on the heather.

'Dat's the very first time I've knowed you lay into Sailor--to hurt
him,' said Lewknor.

'It is,' said Cattiwow, and passed his hand over the two wheals. 'B