on might
have taken to be an echo of the blow sounded among the trees.

But it was not an echo, only the real thing, the second boy having
rushed to his brother's help, and struck at Vane's shoulder, bringing
him fiercely round to attack in turn, stick-armed now, and on equal
terms. For Vane's blow had fallen on the first boy's head, and he went
down half-stunned and bleeding, to turn over and then begin rapidly
crawling away on hands and knees.

Vane saw this, and he forgot that he was weak, that his arms were numbed
and tingling, and that his legs trembled under him. If victory was not
within his grasp, he could take some vengeance for his sufferings; and
the next minute the beechen glade was ringing with the rattle of stick
against stick, as in a state of blind fury now, blow succeeded blow,
many not being fended off by the gipsy lad's stick, but reaching him in
a perfect hail on head, shoulders, arms, everywhere. They flew about
his head like a firework, making him see sparks in a most startling way
till Vane put all his remaining strength into a tremendous blow which
took effect upon a horizontal bough; the stick snapped in two close to
his hand, and he stood defenceless once more, but the victor after all,
for the second boy was running blindly in and out among the trees, and
the first was quite out of sight.

As he grasped the position, Vane uttered a hoarse shout and started in
pursuit, but staggered, reeled, tried to save himself, and came down,
heavily upon something hard, from which he moved with great rapidity and
picked up to look at in dismay.

It was the trowel.

A faint, rustling sound amongst the leaves overhead roused Vane to the
fact that he must have been sitting there some time in a giddy,
half-conscious state, and, looking up, he could see the bright eyes of a
squirrel fixed upon him, while its wavy bushy tail was twitching, and
the little animal sounded as if it were scolding him for being there;
otherwise all was still, and, in spite of his sufferings, it seemed very
comical to Vane that the pretty little creature should be abusing him,
evidently looking upon him as a thief come poaching upon the winter
supply of beech-nuts.

Then the giddy feeling grew more oppressive, the trees began to slowly
sail round him, and there appeared to be several squirrels and several
branches all whisking their bushy tails and uttering that peculiar sound
of theirs--_chop, chop, chop_,--as if they had lea