farther on was a grass-grown tumulus of Saxon times, and his mind was
distracted from the present to those early days when the unknown dead was
committed to this wind-swept tomb. Forests of pine no doubt then grew
around his resting place, it was beneath the gloom and murmur of their
sable foliage that this dead chief was entrusted to the keeping of the
kindly earth. He passed, too, over the lines of a Roman camp; once this
sunny empty down re-echoed to the clang of arms, the voices of the living
were mingled with the cries and groans of the dying, for without doubt
this stronghold of Roman arms was not won, standing, as it did, on the
top-most commanding slope of the hills, without slaughter. Yet to-day the
peaceful clumps of cistus and the trembling harebell blossomed on the
battlefield.

From this point the ground declined swiftly to the main road. Straight in
front of him were the palings of Falmer Park, and the tenantless down
with its long smooth curves, was broken up into sudden hillocks and
depressions. Dells and dingles, some green with bracken, others half full
of water lay to right and left of the path, which, as it approached the
corner of the park, was more strongly marked than when it lay over the
big open spaces. It was somewhat slippery, too, after the torrent of
yesterday, and Mr. Taynton's stick saved him more than once from
slipping. But before he got down to the point where the corner of the
park abutted on the main road, he had leaned on it too heavily, and for
all its seeming strength, it had broken in the middle. The two pieces
were but luggage to him and just as he came to the road, he threw them
away into a wooded hollow that adjoined the path. The stick had broken
straight across; it was no use to think of having it mended.

* * * * *