s, down the grassy slope, Mr.
Rogers went with long strides. I broke cover, and ran after him.

I ran as fast as my hurt hip and the trailing folds of the rug
allowed. The grass underfoot was grey with dew, and overhead the
birds were singing. An old horse that had been sleeping in his
pasture heaved himself up and gazed at me as I went by, and either
his snort of contempt or the sound of my footsteps must have struck
on Mr. Rogers's ear. He turned and allowed me to catch up with him.

"It's you, eh?" He eyed me between pity and distrust. "Here, catch
hold, if you're feeling peckish."

He thrust a loaf into my hands and I fell on it ravenously, plucking
off a crust and gnawing it while I trotted beside him.

"Got to feed her blessed swans now!" he muttered. "The deuce is in
her for perversity to-night."

He kept growling to himself, knitting his brow and pausing once or
twice for a moody stare. He was not drunk, and his high complexion
showed no trace of his all-night sitting; and yet something had
changed him utterly from the cheerful gentleman of a few hours back.

The water in the valley bottom proved to be an artificial lake, very
cunningly contrived to resemble a wild one. At the head of it, where
we trod on asphodels and sweet-smelling mints and brushed the young
stalks of the loose-strife, stood a rustic bridge partly screened by
alders. Here Mr. Rogers halted, and a couple of fine swans came
steering towards him out of the shadows.

He broke his loaf into two pieces. "That's for you," he exclaimed,
hurling the first chunk viciously at the male bird. The pair turned
in alarm at the splash and paddled away, hissing. "And that's for
you!" The second chunk caught the female full astern, and Mr. Rogers
leaned on the rail and laughed grimly. He thrust his hand into his
breeches pocket and drew forth a guinea. The young daylight touched
its edge as it lay in his palm.

"I'm a Justice of the Peace; or I'd toss that after the bread."

"What's the matter with it, sir?"

He turned it over gingerly with his forefinger. "See?" he said.
"I put that mark on it myself, for sport, three weeks ago, and this
very night I won it back."

"Was it one you sold to Mr. Rodriguez?"

"Hey?" I thought he would have taken me by the collar. "So you
_are_ the boy! What do you know of Rodriguez, boy?"

"I--I was listening in the verandah, sir. And oh, but I've something
to tell you! I'm the boy, sir, that