taken as evidence against the man whom he suspected. In all
probability no further attempt would be made upon the wool-shed; but
a fire on some distant part of the run would be much more injurious
to him than the mere burning of a building. The fire that might ruin
him would be one which should get ahead before it was seen, and scour
across the ground, consuming the grass down to the very roots over
thousands of acres, and destroying fencing over many miles. Such
fires pass on, leaving the standing trees unscathed, avoiding even
the scrub, which is too moist with the sap of life for consumption,
but licking up with fearful rapidity every thing that the sun has
dried. He could watch the wool-shed and house, but with no possible
care could he so watch the whole run as to justify him in feeling
security. There need be no preparation of leaves. A match thrown
loosely on the ground would do it. And in regard to a match so
thrown, it would be impossible to prove a guilty intention.

"Ought we not to have dispersed the heap?" said Mrs. Heathcote at
last. The minds of all of them were full of the matter, but these
were the first words spoken.

"I'll leave it as it is," said Harry, giving no reason for his
decision. He was too full of thought, too heavily laden with anxiety,
to speak much. "Come, let's get on; you'll want your dinner, and it's
getting dark." So they cantered on, and got off their horses at the
gate, without another word. And not another word was spoken on the
subject that night. Harry was very silent, walking up and down the
veranda with his pipe in his mouth--not lying on the ground in idle
enjoyment--and there was no reading. The two sisters looked at him
from time to time with wistful, anxious-eyes, half afraid to disturb
him by speech.