The House on the Moor. Mrs. Oliphant

laughed aloud, and tossed it at Kennedy’s feet.

      “There’s reason in what you say, you poaching old sinner; keep your spoil,” he said, “but march on, sergeant, and keep out of my sight till we can take different roads. I don’t keep company with stolen game. There, there, that’s enough. I’ve heard your best excuses already. Good night, my man; and I advise you, for the sake of the old Hundred, to have nothing to do after this either with hares or snares.”