pon his sleeve, and felt that it was very wet; but the
bandage had stopped the bleeding, though not the pain, which was like
the sensation of a hot iron being plunged into his flesh, accompanied by
throbbings which at times seemed too painful to bear.

But after a few minutes' rest he went on again, light in spirit, in
spite of the bodily suffering; and the way seemed short when he was
walking, for his mind was full of the recollections of the day.

For that day had begun well. The walk had been delightful in the
pleasant cool breeze which blew from the hills, and promised a ripple on
the water of the open river he was bound to fish, and he had not been
deceived. In fact the grayling had risen freely to the natural fly he
had softly thrown, and his creel had grown heavier till well on in the
afternoon, when he had started back with his load.

Then came the _pad_, _pad_ of the pony's hoofs on the soft grass, with
an occasional click when the shoe caught upon a stone. Then he was
overtaken by Mark, and the encounter followed, one which was more full
of pleasure in its memories than pain, and the lad's lips curled in a
smile as he went over everything which had passed till they parted.

Somehow these thoughts would be pleasant, although mingled with them
came others of their next meeting. Every now and then, though, the
lad's progress was hindered by the throbbing of his wound, and the
giddy, faint sensation which followed; and twice over, when his forehead
turned damp, he threw himself down amongst the ferns to lie for a few
minutes on the cool moist earth, with the result each time that the
sensation of swimming and sickness passed off.

Then he rose again, and plodded on, getting nearer and nearer to home;
but the darkness increased till it became hard work to avoid the stones
which lay about, and his way beneath the trees near the river grew
solemn and gloomy in the extreme.

Once he started as he was listening to the croaking of the frogs down
among the sedges and rushes, for a peculiar hoarse cry arose from close
by; but he was country boy enough to know that it was the peculiar
sonorous squawk of a heron, evidently a visitor to the river for the
sake of the aforesaid frogs.

A little farther on, after one of his rests, just as he was starting
again, a low whoo-whoo-whoo! was uttered close to his ear, and answered
from a little farther on, to be apparently echoed again from the trees
high up on the side of