"Come in, you two youngsters."
The General's voice came cheerfully from the dining-room, and arm-in-arm they walked towards the open window.
Half-way there they paused, and instinctively their eyes turned towards the old yew tree.
"Why, there he is, boy," breathed the girl. "Don't you see him, and the black mark on his neck and his tail wagging?"
"It's the shadows, darling," answered the boy. "The moonlight through the trees."
Maybe, maybe. Who knows?
Gently he led her on, and she passed into the room ahead of him. And from the path outside there rose once again into the soft summer night the farewell message of a friend to a friend:
"Good hunting, old chap."
IX — The Man with his Hand in his Pocket
I