CHAPTER I



THE FIRST GUN


They burned the old gun that used to stand in the dark corner up in the
garret, close to the stuffed fox that always grinned so fiercely.
Perhaps the reason why he seemed in such a ghastly rage was that he did
not come by his death fairly. Otherwise his pelt would not have been so
perfect. And why else was he put away up there out of sight?--and so
magnificent a brush as he had too. But there he stood, and mounted guard
over the old flintlock that was so powerful a magnet to us in those
days. Though to go up there alone was no slight trial of moral courage
after listening to the horrible tales of the carters in the stable, or
the old women who used to sit under the hedge in the shade, on an armful
of hay, munching their crusts at luncheon time.

The great cavernous place was full of shadows in the brightest summer
day; for the light came only through the chinks in the shutters. These
were flush with the floor and bolted firmly. The silence was intense, it
being so near the roof and so far away from the inhabited parts of the
house. Yet there were sometimes strange acoustical effects--as when
there came a low tapping at the shutters, enough to make your heart
stand still. There was then nothing for it but to dash through the