The Buccaneer Farmer | Page 7

and reached deep water, but its slowness told that its strength had
gone. The dogs took the water with a splash, and Grace turned her head.
She felt pitiful and did not want to see the end. The animal had made a
gallant fight, and she shrank from the butchery.
The clatter of heavy boots on stones suddenly stopped; there was a
curious pause, and Grace looked up as somebody shouted: "'Gone to
holt! Ca' off your hounds. Wheer's t' terrier?"
The hunt swept up the bank, smashed through a hedge, and spread
along the margin of the neighboring pool. A few big alders grew beside
its edge, sending down their roots into deep water; but for the most part
the bank was supported by timbers driven into the soil, and freshly laid
with neatly-bedded turf. Grace knew this had been done to protect the
meadow, because the stream is thrown against the concave side when a
pool lies in a bend.
As she stopped at the broken hedge a man ran past carrying a small wet
terrier, and two or three more came up with spades. The otter could not
escape now, since the hounds would watch the underwater entrance to
the cave among the alder roots, while the terrier would crawl down
from the other side. If a hole could not be found, the men would dig.
They were interrupted soon after they began, for somebody said, "Put
down your spade, Tom. Hold the terrier."
Grace studied the man who had interfered. He was young and on the
whole attractive. His face was honest and sunburned; he carried himself

well, and was dressed rather neatly in knickerbockers and shooting
jacket. She knew Christopher Askew was the son of a neighboring
farmer, who owned his land. Then, as the men stopped digging, Thorn
pushed past.
"What's this?" he asked haughtily. "Why have you meddled?"
Askew looked hard at him, but answered in a quiet voice, "It cost us
some trouble to mend the bank, and if you dig out the otter the stream
will soon make an ugly gap."
"Then it's a matter of the cost!" said Thorn. "How much?"
"Not altogether," Askew replied, coloring. "It's a matter of the damage
the next flood may do. We had an awkward job to strengthen the bank
and I'm not going to have it cut."
"Noo, Kit, dinna spoil sport," the old huntsman urged. "It's none a trick
for a canny lad to cheat the hounds."
"Put terrier in an' niver mind him!" shouted another, and there were
cries of approval.
"Stop digging, Tom," Askew said with quiet firmness. "Pick up the
dog."
"We are wasting time," Thorn remarked. "I don't like bargaining; you
had better state your price."
Grace, looking on across the broken hedge, sympathized with the
farmer. For one thing, she wanted the otter to escape; besides, she
approved the man's resolute quietness. He had pluck, since it was plain
that he was taking an unpopular line, and he used some self-control,
because Thorn's tone was strongly provocative. In fact, she thought
Thorn was not at his best; he was not entitled to suggest that the other
was trying to extort as much money as he could.
"No more do I like bargaining," Askew replied. "There will be no

digging here. You have smashed the hedge, and that's enough. Call off
your dogs."
"So you mean to spoil sport, even if the damage costs you nothing? I
know your kind; it's getting common."
"Oh, no," said Askew. "I won't have the bank cut down, but that is all.
If you like, you can look for another otter on our part of the stream."
Thorn gave him a searching glance, and then, seeing he was resolute,
shrugged contemptuously. The huntsman blew his horn, the dogs were
drawn off, and Gerald followed the others across the field. Grace,
however, sat down on a fallen tree to rest her foot and for a minute or
two thought herself alone. Then she rose as Askew came through the
gap in the hedge. He began to pull about the broken rails and thorns,
but saw her when he looked up.
"They have left you behind, Miss Osborn," he remarked with a smile.
"I think I had enough; besides, I hurt my foot."
"Badly?"
"No," said Grace. "I have only begun to feel it hurt, but I wish it wasn't
quite so far to the bridge."
Askew looked at the water, measuring its height. "The stepping stones
are not far off. One or two may be covered, but perhaps I could help
you across and it would save you a mile."
Grace went on with him and they presently stopped beneath the alder
branches by a sparkling shallow. Tall brush grew up the shady bank
and