, at its farther extremity, passed by
the piece of unenclosed ground called the Stone-pit, where stood the
cottage, once a stone-cutter's shed, now for fifteen years inhabited by
Silas Marner. The spot looked very dreary at this season, with the
moist trodden clay about it, and the red, muddy water high up in the
deserted quarry. That was Dunstan's first thought as he approached it;
the second was, that the old fool of a weaver, whose loom he heard
rattling already, had a great deal of money hidden somewhere. How was
it that he, Dunstan Cass, who had often heard talk of Marner's
miserliness, had never thought of suggesting to Godfrey that he should
frighten or persuade the old fellow into lending the money on the
excellent security of the young Squire's prospects? The resource
occurred to him now as so easy and agreeable, especially as Marner's
hoard was likely to be large enough to leave Godfrey a handsome surplus
beyond his immediate needs, and enable him to accommodate his faithful
brother, that he had almost turned the horse's head towards home again.
Godfrey would be ready enough to accept the suggestion: he would snatch
eagerly at a plan that might save him from parting with Wildfire. But
when Dunstan's meditation reached this point, the inclination to go on
grew strong and prevailed. He didn't want to give Godfrey that
pleasure: he preferred that Master Godfrey should be vexed. Moreover,
Dunstan enjoyed the self-important consciousness of having a horse to
sell, and the opportunity of driving a bargain, swaggering, and
possibly taking somebody in. He might have all the satisfaction
attendant on selling his brother's horse, and not the less have the
further satisfaction of setting Godfrey to borrow Marner's money. So
he rode on to cover.

Bryce and Keating were there, as Dunstan was quite sure they would
be--he was such a lucky fellow.

"Heyday!" said Bryce, who had long had his eye on Wildfire, "you're on
your brother's horse to-day: how's that?"

"Oh, I've swopped with him," said Dunstan, whose delight in lying,
grandly independent of utility, was not to be diminished by the
likelihood that his hearer would not believe him--"Wildfire's mine now."

"What! has he swopped with you for that big-boned hack of yours?" said
Bryce, quite aware that he should get another lie in answer.

"Oh, there was a little account between us," said Dunsey, carelessly,
"and Wildfire made it even. I accommodated him by t