"Hullo," he cried, "somebody's been watching us."
"They always do on these towans," said Jenny.
"I'll soon haul the scoundrel into daylight," and with a shout he charged down through the rushes, almost falling over the prostrate body of Old Man Veal. Castleton set him on his feet with a jerk and demanded his business, while Jenny with curling lips stood by. The old man would not say a word, and his captor, balked of chastisement by his evident senility, let him shamble off into the waste.
"That's one of the men on the farm," said Jenny.
"I suppose he'll get the sack."
"I don't think so, then. I think he's edged on by someone else to follow me round."
Chapter XLV: London Pride
JENNY and Castleton followed the course of the stream along the valley towards Bochyn. The bracken was a vivid brown upon the hillsides; the gorse was splashed with unusual gold even for Cornwall; lapwings cried, wheeling over the head of the ploughman ploughing the moist rich earth; a flight of wild duck came unerringly down the valley, settling with a great splash in the blue and green marsh.
Trewhella met them, stepping suddenly out from a grove of arbutus trees, a thunderous figure.
"What do 'ee mean?" he roared. "What do 'ee mean by carrying my missus off for wagging tongues? Damn ye, you great overgrown Cockney, damn ye, what do 'ee mean to come sparking here along?"