shaft ... and yon to east'ard is Prince's shaft.... We go round here
behind engine-house.... Yon's my house 'mong the trees."

"That's a fine animal," said Gard, stopping suddenly to look at a great
white horse, which stood nibbling the gorse on the edge of the cliff
right in the eye of the sun, as it drooped towards Guernsey in a
holocaust of purple and amber and crimson clouds. The glow of the
threatening sky threw the great white figure into unusual prominence.

"Yours, Mr. Hamon?" asked Gard--and the white horse flung up its head
and pealed out a trumpet-like neigh as though resenting the imputation.

"No," said old Tom, staring at the white horse under his shading hand.
"Seigneur's. What's he doing down here? He's generally kept up at
Eperquerie, and that's the best place for him. He's an awkward beast at
times. I must send and tell Mr. Le Pelley where he is."

The little cluster of white, thatched houses stood close together for
company, but discreetly turned their faces away from one another so that
no man overlooked or interfered with his neighbour.

Gard found himself in a large room which occupied the whole middle
portion of the house and served as kitchen and common room for the
family.

The floor was of trodden earth--hard and dry as cement, with a strip of
boarding round the sides and in front of the fire-place. Heavy oaken
beams ran across the roof from which depended a great hanging rack
littered with all kinds of household odds and ends. Along the beams of
the roof on hooks hung two long guns. One end of the room was occupied