Harry, too, was near his own home, and went forward through the thick
gloom without a doubt, Jacko following him faithfully. In about half
an hour they came to another fence, but now it was too absolutely
dark for jumping. Harry had not seen it till he was close to it, and
then he pulled up his horse. "My word! why don't you jump away, Mr.
Harry? Who's a duffer now?"

"Hold your tongue, or I'll put my whip across your back. Get down and
help me pull a log away. The horses couldn't see where to put their
feet." Jacko did as he was bid, and worked hard, but still grumbled
at having been called a duffer. The animals were quickly led over,
the logs were replaced, and the two were again galloping through the
forest.

"I thought you were making for the wool-shed," said Jacko.

"We're eight miles beyond the wool-shed," said Harry. They had now
crossed another paddock, and had come to the extreme fence on the
run. The Gangoil pastures extended much further, but in that
direction had not as yet been inclosed. Here they both got off their
horses and walked along the fence till they came to an opening, with
a slip panel, or movable bars, which had been Heathcote's intended
destination. "Hold the horses, Jacko, till I come back," he said.

Jacko, when alone, nothing daunted by the darkness or solitude,
seated himself on the top rail, took out a pipe, and struck a match.
When the tobacco was ignited he dropped the match on the dry grass at
his feet, and a little flame instantly sprang up. The boy waited a
few seconds till the flames began to run, and then putting his feet
together on the ground stamped out the incipient fire. "My word!"