The Buccaneer Farmer | Page 8

briars trailed in the stream. A row of flat-topped stones ran across,
but there were gaps where the current foamed over some that were
lower than the rest. Grace's foot was getting worse, and sitting down on
a slab of the slate stile, she glanced at her companion.
"I imagine it needed some pluck to stop the hunt," she said. "For one

thing, you were alone; nobody agreed with you."
Askew smiled. "Opposition sometimes makes one obstinate. But do
you think it's hard to stand alone?"
"Yes," said Grace, impulsively. "I know it's hard. Yet, of course, if you
feel you are taking the proper line, you oughtn't to be daunted by what
others think."
She stopped, remembering that the man was a stranger; and then
resumed in a different tone, "But why did you really stop the hunt? Are
you one of the people who don't believe in sport?"
"No," said Askew good humoredly. "It's curious that Mr. Thorn hinted
something like that. Anyhow, I'm not a champion of the otter's right to
destroy useful fish. I think they ought to be shot."
"Oh!" said Grace with a touch of indignation; "you would shoot an
otter? Well, I suppose they must be killed; but to use a gun!"
"It's better for the otter. Which do you imagine it would choose--a
mercifully sudden end, or two or three hours of agony, with men and
dogs close behind, until the half-drowned, exhausted animal is torn to
pieces or mangled by the poles?"
"I suppose one must answer as you expect."
"You're honest," Askew remarked. "I imagine it cost you something to
agree!"
"It did," Grace admitted. "After all, you know our traditions, and many
people, not cruel people, like the sport."
"That is so; but let's take the hunt to-day, for an example. There were
three or four men without an occupation, and no doubt they find
following the hounds healthy exercise. The others had left work that
ought to be done; in fact, if you think, you'll own that some were men
we have not much use for in the dale."

"Yes," said Grace, with some reluctance; "I know the men you mean.
All the same, it is really not our business to decide if they ought to
work or hunt."
Askew looked amused and she liked his twinkle. He was obviously
intelligent, and on the whole she approved his unconventional point of
view. Conventional insincerities were the rule at Tarnside. Besides,
although it was possible she ought not to talk to the man with such
freedom, her foot hurt and the stile made a comfortable seat. She liked
to watch the shadows quiver on the stream and hear the current brawl
among the stones. This was an excuse for stopping, since she would not
acknowledge that the young farmer's society had some charm.
After a moment or two he resumed: "It is not my business, anyhow, and
I don't want to argue if otter-hunting is a proper sport; it's an advantage,
so to speak, to stick to the point. All I objected to was the hunt's
breaking down the mended bank. There are not many good meadows at
the dale-head, and grass land is too valuable to be destroyed. Don't you
think this justifies my opposition?"
"I suppose it does," Grace agreed, and then decided that she had talked
to him enough. "Well, I must go on," she added with a doubtful glance
at the stream. "But it doesn't look as if one could get across."
"You can try," Askew replied, and jumping down stood in the water,
holding out his hand. "Come on; there's not much risk of a slip."
Since it was too late to refuse, Grace took his hand and he waded across,
steadying her, while the current rippled round his legs. Some of the
stones were covered, but with his support she sprang across the gaps
and the effort did not hurt her foot as much as she had thought. He was
not awkward. She liked his firm grasp, and his care that she did not fall;
particularly since she saw he was satisfied to give her the help she
needed and knew when to stop. After she got across she thanked him
and let him go.
When she crossed the field Askew went home in a thoughtful mood,
though he was conscious of a pleasant thrill. He had felt the girl's

charm strongly as he stood near her at the stile, and now tried to
recapture the scene; the dark alder branches moving overhead, the
sparkle of the water, and the light and shadow that touched his
companion. Her face was attractive; although he was not a judge of
female beauty, he knew its molding was good. Mouth, nose, and chin
were finely but firmly lined; her