d away to the south. The house was that of a
sheep-farmer, whose flocks fed over the moorland; and as the boys raced
through the little wood, the shepherd left the farmsteading, where he
had been sheltering from the storm, and came up through the copse to go
about his business.

The scouts did not see him, but he saw the scouts. For a few moments
he watched the race, his mouth gaping wide in true rustic wonder; then
he turned, and hastily retraced his steps to the farm. He burst into
the kitchen, where the farmer and his wife were seated at a round table
in front of the wide hearth, taking their tea.

'Maister! maister!' cried the shepherd, 'theer's two bwoys a-runnin'
about i' the copse wi' ne'er a stitch on 'em.'

'What's that ye say, Diggory?' cried the farmer's wife.

'Ne'er a stitch on 'em, missis, a-runnin' about there like two pixies,
they be. A' niver seed such a sight afore in a Christian land. 'Tis
like haythens, on'y they be white uns 'stead o' black uns.'

'What do ye make of it, Tom?' said the farmer's wife to her husband.

'Maybe 'tis nought but his simple-minded talk,' replied the farmer,
taking a huge bite out of a slice of bread-and-butter.

'No, maister,' cried the shepherd. ''Tis Gospel true, ivery word.
Ne'er a stitch on 'em.' And he waved his left hand like an orator.

Suddenly an angry flush sprang to the farmer's face, and he stood up.

'Then, 'tis gipsies!' he cried.

'I dunno,' said the shepherd. 'Brown they hain't, but white as milk.'

'I'll mark their white for 'em,' cried the farmer; and stepping quickly
to the wall, he seized a long cart-whip which hung there, and strode
from the house.

For years there had been a bitter feud between the sheep-farmer and a
large family of gipsies of the name of King. The Kings went about the
country in several small bands, and for generations the copse had been
a favourite halting-place. But one spring the farmer lost some lambs,
and was persuaded that the gipsies had been at the bottom of his loss.
So he forbade them the use of the copse, and drove them out whenever he
found they had dared to pitch their camp there. He was a
hasty-tempered man, utterly fearless and quite unforgiving, so that a
regular war had sprung up between himself and the Kings. Now he was
persuaded that his enemies had sought the shelter of his copse, and he
was off at once to attack them.

He arrived on the scene to find the scouts turning their clothes.
Ins