l just make some extra sandwiches and put another
apple in the basket. With mother out, the orphan will carol all the
morning, unless you gag her, so you may as well accept the inevitable."

"Cut and run, in fact!" added Hereward.

"The voice of the siren tempts me to go--to escape the voice of the
siren who stays!" wavered Athelstane.

"Oh, come along, old sport!" urged Ingred. "What are a few old bones to
Red Ridge Barrow? You can swat to-night to make up, if you want to."

"It's three to one!" said Athelstane, giving way gracefully; "and there
mayn't be any more fine Saturdays for walks."

The four young people started forth with the delightful sense of having
the day before them. It was fairly early, and a hazy November sun had
not yet drawn the moisture from the heather. On the moor the few trees
were bare, but the golden autumn leaves still clothed the woods in the
sheltered valley that stretched below. Masses of gossamer covered with
dew-drops lay among the bracken, like fairies' washing hung out to dry.
There was a hint of hoarfrost under the bushes. The air had that
delicious invigorating quality when every breath sets the body dancing.
It was too late in the year for flowers, though here and there a little
gorse lingered, or a few buttercups and hawkweeds. After about an hour
of red haziness the sun pierced the bank of mist and shone out
gloriously, almost as in summer; the birds, ready to snatch a moment's
joy, were flitting about tweeting and calling, a water-wagtail took a
bath in a shallow pool of a stream, and a great flock of bramblings,
rare visitors in those parts, paused in their migration to hold a
chattering conference round an old elder tree.

The Saxons were determined to-day to go farther afield than their walks
had hitherto taken them. The local guide-book mentioned some prehistoric
menhirs and a chambered barrow on the top of Red Ridge, a distant hill,
so they had fixed that as their Mecca.

It was a considerable tramp, but the bracing air helped them on, and
they sat down at last to eat their lunch by the side of the path that
led to the summit. The boys had wished to mount to the top without
calling a halt, but the girls had struck, and insisted on a rest before
the final climb.

"Pity Mother isn't here!" said Ingred, voicing the general feeling of
the family, which always missed its central pivot.

"Yes, but it would have been too great a trapse for her, poor darling!"
qualified Qu