"You infamous scoundrel!" he shouted. "What is the meaning of this?"
The old man stared blankly and unknowingly before him. Not a spark of recognition lighted his eagle features.
"I don't quite understand," he answered; then he turned to his friends.
"Who may these snowy gentlemen be?" he asked. "His reverence seems to be a little put out. But he's got a kind expression of countenance. If they wanted to see the mill, they ought to have started a bit earlier."
But then Mr. Fogo saw Mrs. Crocker approaching and he did not hesitate to run with his bodyguard about him.
Snow began to fall in earnest at last. Heavier and heavier it came, until Sheepstor and the churchyard and the bull-ring, with hills and valleys round about, vanished under a silent, far-flung cloth of silver. After all the riot and life, noise and blood-letting, peace fell like a pall at noon. The folk kept their cottages. Only at 'The Corner House' persisted a mighty din and clatter of tongues, while the larder and many bottles were emptied, the barrels were heavily drawn upon and the battle was fought and lost again a dozen times before nightfall.
BOOK II
CHAPTER I
'MEAVY COT'
On a day in summer, David Bowden wandered up the higher valleys of Meavy and stopped in a little dingle where the newborn river tumbled ten feet over a great apron of granite into a pool beneath. In four separate threads the stream spouted over this mossy ledge, and then joined her foaming forces below. Grey-green sallows thronged the top of this natural weir and the wind flashed a twinkle of silver into their foliage as the leaves leapt and turned. Low hills sloped to this spot and made a natural nest. Black Tor and Harter ascended at hand, and on the horizon northerly Princetown's stern church tower rose against the sky. Beside the pool, wherein Meavy gathered again her scattered tresses, an old ruin stood; and round about the dwelling-places of primæval man glimmered grey upon the heath.