Rodney Stone, if his good mother saw that white face of his, she'd
never let him come to the smithy more. Walk slowly on, and I'll see
you back to Friar's Oak."

We had gone half a mile, perhaps, when the Champion overtook us, and
I could not but observe that the bundle was no longer under his arm.
We were nearly at the smithy before Jim asked the question which was
already in my mind.

"What took YOU up to Cliffe Royal, uncle?"

"Well, as a man gets on in years," said the Champion, "there's many
a duty turns up that the likes of you have no idea of. When you're
near forty yourself, you'll maybe know the truth of what I say."

So that was all we could draw from him; but, young as I was, I had
heard of coast smuggling and of packages carried to lonely places at
night, so that from that time on, if I had heard that the
preventives had made a capture, I was never easy until I saw the
jolly face of Champion Harrison looking out of his smithy door.



CHAPTER III--THE PLAY-ACTRESS OF ANSTEY CROSS



I have told you something about Friar's Oak, and about the life that
we led there. Now that my memory goes back to the old place it
would gladly linger, for every thread which I draw from the skein of