d friend of Browne's.

"Ay, will I. Take thy meat in thy hand and come along," replied Browne.
"And we may as well finish our day there, sith this spot is well nigh
stripped. Margeson and Britteridge, when you have fed, you can bind the
rushes that are cut, and then come after us as far as a little pond
behind that hill, due west from here I should say. You'll find it easily
enough."

"Oh, ay, we'll find it," replied Margeson, a rough companion, but a good
worker. "Go on mates, and take your dogs with you, for they're smelling
at the victuals enough to turn a man's stomach. Get out you beast!" and
raising his foot he offered to kick Nero, who growled menacingly and
showed a formidable set of teeth.

"Have a care, man!" cried Browne angrily. "Meddle with that dog and
he'll make victual of thee before thou knowest what ails thee. 'T is
ever a poor sign when a man cannot abear dogs or children."

And the two friends, followed by the mastiff and spaniel, walked rapidly
away. Two hours passed while Margeson and Britteredge, not greatly in
haste, finished their lunch and tied and stacked the reeds already cut.
Then shouldering their sickles they leisurely skirted the hill in front
of them, and after a little search came upon the pretty sheet of water
now called Murdoch's Pond.

"This will be the place," said Margeson looking about him; "but where is
pepperpot Browne?"

"Or his dog?" suggested Britteridge slyly.

"Whistle and the beasts will hear us if the men do not," said Margeson
suiting the action to the word. No answer followed, and both men
together raised a yet shriller note, followed by shouts, halloos, and
various noises supposed to carry sound to the farthest limits of space.
But each effort died away in dim and distant echoes among the hills, and
after a while the men looked at each other in half angry discouragement.

"They've played us a trick," said Margeson; "they're hiding to mock at
us, or they've gone back to the village some other way."

"Nay," replied Britteridge pacifically; "they're not such babes as to
play tricks like that. See, here are goodly reeds; let us cut and bind
some while we tarry, and Browne will be back anon."

Grumbling and unconvinced Margeson still complied, and for a while
longer the two worked fitfully, pausing now and again to look about
them, to listen, or to shout.

At last, by tacit consent, both threw down their tools, and with slow,
half-fearful gaze surveyed the scen