ing forth into the unknown. And yet when, early in the
morning, the old and sturdy pony was brought round to the door, and when
the brown-bearded Roderick had shouldered the rifle and was ready to set
forth, Lionel had little thought of surrendering his chance to any one
else.

"I call this very shabby treatment," his burly and good-humored host
said, as he stood at the open door. "When a man goes stalking, if
there's a pretty girl in the house, she ought to make her appearance and
give him a little present for good luck. It's an understood thing; it's
an old custom; and yet there isn't one of those lazy creatures down
yet."

"This is the best I can do for you, old fellow," Percy Lestrange said,
at the same moment. "I can't give you the flask, for my sister Georgie
gave it to me; but I will lend it to you for the day; and it's filled
with an excellent mixture of curacoa and brandy. You'll want some
comfort? and I don't expect they'll let you smoke. What do you think of
my crest?"

He handed the silver flask to Lionel, who found engraved on the side of
it a merry and ingenious device, consisting of two briar-root pipes,
crossed, and surrounded by a heraldic garter bearing the legend "_Dulce
est de-sip-ere in loco?_" Was this Miss Georgia's little joke? Anyhow,
he pocketed the flask with much gratitude; he guessed he might have need
of it, if all tales were true.

"I hope you'll get a presentable head," Sir Hugh said, "The stags
themselves are not in very good condition yet; but the horns are all
right--the velvet's off."

"It doesn't much matter," Lionel made answer, contentedly. "I know
beforehand I am going to miss. Well, good-bye, for the present! Go
ahead, Maggie!"

But at the same moment there was a glimmer of a gray dress in the
twilight of the hall; and the next moment Honnor Cunyngham appeared on
the doorstep, the morning light shining on her smiling face.

"Mr. Moore," she said, coming forward without any kind of embarrassment,
"there's an old custom--didn't my brother tell you?--you must take a
little gift from some one in the house, just as you are going away, for
good luck. You haven't yet? Here it is, then."

"It is exceedingly kind of you," said he; "and I wish I could make the
omen come true; but I have no such hope. I know I am going to miss."

"You are going to kill a stag!" said she, confidently. "That is what you
are going to do. Well, good-bye, and good-luck!"

So the little party of thre