his foolish boasting. On their way they passed near to Fern's Hollow, and
Stephen heard little Nan's shrill voice calling his name, as if she were
seeking him weariedly; but when he hesitated for a moment, his heart
yearning to answer her, Black Thompson again patted him on the back, and
bade him never show the white feather, but remember poor dead Snip; at
which his passion for revenge returned, and he pressed on eagerly to the
fir-coppice.

It was quite dark when they entered the path leading through the wood. No
one spoke now, and they trod cautiously, lest there should be any noise
from their footsteps. The tall black fir-trees towered above them to an
unusual height; and through all the topmost branches there ran a low,
mournful sound, as if every tree was whispering about them, and lamenting
over them. Even the little brook, which in the sunshine rippled so
merrily along the borders of the wood, seemed to be sobbing like a
grieved and tired child in the night-time. Strange rustlings on every
side, and sudden groanings of the withered boughs in some of the pines,
made them start in fear; and once, in a little opening among the trees,
when the stars came out and looked down upon them, Stephen would have
given all he had in the world to be safe at home, with little Nan singing
hymns on his knee, or quietly asleep after the hot and busy day.

'It's lonesome enough to make a bull-dog afeared,' whispered Davies, in
a frightened tone. But before long they were out of the wood; and in the
glimmer of light that lasts all night through during the summer, Stephen
saw Black Thompson unwind a net, which had been wrapped round his body
under his collier's jacket. More than half the covey of partridges were
bagged; and they had such capital luck, as the men called it, that
Stephen soon entered into the daring spirit of the adventure. It sent
a thrill of excitement through him, in which poor Snip was for the time