and his wife retired, the light was extinguished, and all was
quiet, except conscience, which still tormented and kept Rushbrook
turning to the right and left continually. Jane slept not: she listened
to the wind; the slightest noise--the crowing of the cock--startled her,
and soon footsteps were heard of those passing the windows. They could
remain in bed no longer. Jane arose, dressed, and lighted the fire:
Rushbrook remained sitting on the side of the bed in deep thought.

"I've been thinking, Jane," said he, at last, "it would be better to
make away with Mum."

"With the dog? Why, it can't speak, poor thing. No--no--don't kill the
poor dog."

"He can't speak, but the dog has sense; he may lead them to the spot."

"And if he were to do so, what then? it would prove nothing."

"No! only it would go harder against Joey."

"Against the boy! yes, it might convince them that Joey did the deed;
but still, the very killing of the animal would look suspicious: tie him
up, Rushbrook; that will do as well."

"Perhaps better," replied he; "tie him up in the back-kitchen, there's a
good woman."

Jane did so, and then commenced preparing the breakfast; they had taken
their seats, when the latch of the door was lifted up, and Furness, the
schoolmaster, looked in. This he was often in the habit of doing, to
call Joey out to accompany him to school.

"Good morning," said he; "now, where's my friend Joey?"

"Come in, come in, neighbour, and shut the door," said Rushbrook; "I
wish to speak to you. Mayhap you'll take a cup of tea; if so, my missus
will give you a good one."

"Well, as Mrs Rushbrook does make everything so good, I don't care if I
do, although I have had breakfast. But where's my friend Joey? the lazy
little dog; is he not up yet? Why Mrs Rushbrook, what's the matter?
you look distressed."

"I am, indeed," replied Jane, putting her apron to her eyes.

"Why, Mrs Rushbrook, what is it?" inquired the pedagogue.

"Just this; we are in great trouble about Joey. When we got up this
morning we found that he was not in bed, and he has never been home
since."

"Well, that is queer; why, where can the young scamp be gone to?"

"We don't know; but we find that he took my gun with him, and I'm
afraid--" and here Rushbrook paused, shaking his head.

"Afraid of what?"

"That he has gone poaching, and has been taken by the keepers."

"But did he ever do so before?"

"Not by night, if he did by day. I