heir tails compelled the pair to run from it for their lives.

What he had foretold befell; the men in the body of the carriage broke
into a boyish cheer of delight, which drowned for all his passengers but
Amaryllis the words of that stream of polyglot invective, exhortation
and endearment which the driver poured out over his cattle; a lost
jeremiad, for Dick says he does not remember, and Amaryllis that, though
she heard it all, there was much that she did not understand and a great
deal more which nothing on earth will ever induce her to repeat.

As they rattled across the little stone bridge, Dick glanced to his left
at the Hangman's Oak, the motor-cycle and the two men; saw foolish,
innocent grins break through the suspicion on the two bad faces, and,
jovially lifting his whip, waved them a salute.

In response, the two right hands came out of their pockets, forgetting
for that moment what they left there.

The circling lash took each wheeler in turn, while the load still ran
light behind them, and Tod, honest worker, answered relief with fresh
effort.

By the time that the hill had reduced them to a straining walk,
Gallowstree Dip was out of sight, and Dick let out his breath with a
little hissing noise between the teeth. Amaryllis heard it and
understood.

"Dad!" she said.

"Ay, lass?" he answered.

"Those two men," she said, lowering her voice and speaking in her
natural manner: "as we were coming down to the bridge they pushed up
their goggles, and their faces were beastly--just as if they meant," she
whispered, "to kill somebody."

Dick nodded.

"And then the men behind began cheering, and those two horrid faces grew
quite silly and good-natured. And when you waggled your whip at them
they grinned and waved their hands, and one of them shouted something
meant to be jolly."

"It just means, lovey," he answered, "that they made up their minds it
was a beano after all, and that they'd got wind up about nothing. The
mongrel sportsman and the bashful wench in a sun-bonnet were after all,
they thought, a genuine substitute for Ned Blossom."

"Did you play for that?" she asked.

"Oh, well!" he answered vaguely; then added: "Don't worry, my lass. 'Tis
all well for a while."

He kept his horses on a steady strain until the long rise was topped,
and then climbed down from his seat and let them breathe, tightening
this and feeling that about their tackle, until each horse was tricked
into believing its