or not to be offended, but
remembered her hair, and was comforted.

The road now began to drop away in front of them so sharply that Tod had
no work to do. A little further, and the slow trot, which gentle use of
the foot-break had made possible, was reduced to a reluctant,
pastern-racking walk, with slack traces and strained collar-chains for
the wheelers; while the leader, too much at leisure, began to remember
his loneliness.

And then, as they rounded an acute bend at the steepest point of the
grade, Amaryllis saw below her, just beyond the bridge of grey stone
from which their road began its ascent to the moor, a single ancient
oak-tree, from the twisted trunk of which was stretched out across the
by-road which followed the course of the bridged stream, that cruel,
heavy arm, upon which in one day were hanged fifteen of Sir Thomas
Wyatt's rebels in days popularly supposed merrier than ours.

Near the foot of this evil old tree, worthy of its huge bough, the girl
saw the two men whose behaviour had offended Tod, pretending themselves
occupied with some defect of side-car or cycle. By the time that Dick
had brought his team within a hundred and fifty yards of the bottom, he
could see that the interest of his two enemies had been diverted from
their own vehicle to his: they stood erect with their backs to the oak,
each hiding a hand in a right-side pocket.

Whether they had gathered matter of suspicion at "The Goat in Boots,"
whether they would dare, here in peaceful English country, so desperate
an attempt as shooting him and Amaryllis as they passed the Dip, were
questions Dick could not answer. But the goggles were down, masking the
faces, while he and the girl, perched high on the box, made fine targets
for a pair of Brownings.

He turned in his seat and spoke to his passengers, catching Dixon
Mallaby's eye.

"Ah be goin' to show 'ee, sir," he said, "how three ornary hacks,
rightly drove, can take a dip an' a rise, even with a load like you
gentlemen makes. Howd tight."

Then to Amaryllis he said, with paternal tenderness:

"Don't you be fallin' off now, my dear. And grab t' rail, not me, when
they bump into their collars."

Simultaneously he lifted his foot from the break, uttered an exotic,
mournful cry, and for the first time brought his long lash across his
horses--Tod first, then the wheelers; and as the three shot down the
remnant of the slope, he kept Tod's traces tight while the heavy load at
t