lead. She snuffed the air, and even while keeping to her
pace, would reach forward her neck to smell the better. Derry Down knew
that she was on one of the old "drove roads" by which horses had been
driven to the eastern fairs and trysts for hundreds of years, before
ever Lord Hillsborough came into the land, or the pick of a governmental
sapper had been set in the heather.

Generally the pursuers kept wide of all human habitation. They could see
the stars now, and so in a manner choose their direction. The details
they left to the horses, and especially to Stair's wise "Derry Down."
But the scent of a single "keeping" peat in a herd's house would send
them all up the hill again. It had been carefully bent over the red
ashes to hold them alight till the morrow, for the goodwife's greater
ease on rising, and also because it was the immemorial custom of all
Moor folk from Killantringan even to the Moss of Cree.

A fly-by-night bumblebee, honey-drunk, followed the cavalcade
blunderingly a little way, perhaps in the hope that they who seemed to
know their way so well, might lead him safely home, ring the door-bell
for him, and tumble him into the lobby of his home under the bent
tussock where he fain would be. Nevermore would he stay out so late
again. So much he would gladly promise the reproachful wife who had sat
up for his coming.

But the ponies drew away, and there was nothing for him but to snuggle
down with a buzz and a grumble among the wet bluebells and wait for
daybreak, for sobriety and with it a new sense of direction.

Occasionally Stair urged his mare forward, though only by a closer clip
of the knees. She was a willing beast, and responded gallantly. It was
easy going now, and the night was speeding quickly. Presently they would
need to go down the side of the fell, and skirt the White Water to their
ambush place at the head of the Loch. Of this last, Stair thought
exclusively. But with more of the mystery of an older race about him,
Louis Raincy listened to the firs whispering confidences overhead as
they sped downhill. Then came the birches' clean rustle--for the burn
they were following led them among copses where the legs of the horses
risped with a pleasant sound through the lash of leaves.

The ponies were going easily now, their masters being sure that they
were far in advance of their time. They had cut the circle cleanly, and
those they were pursuing would have to make nearly three times the
di