Shameless Wayne glanced sharp behind him. "By the Heart, 'tis Barguest she sees!" he muttered.
"Thou canst not help but see him—his coat is brown against thy darker wear—he's pressed close against thee, now, as if he fears for thee."
He could see naught, but there were those who had the second sight, he knew, and the old dreads crept cold about his heart. "Would God the lads were safe indoors," he muttered.
"How if it be thou he comes to warn?" she whispered.
He laughed harshly. "I've over many loads on my shoulders, bairn, to slip them off so lightly; but the lads are young to life yet, and full of heart—'twould be like one of Fortune's twists to send them across the Lean Man's path."
"Hark, Ned, didst hear?" she broke in, as a low whistle sounded through the leafing garden-trees.
Shameless Wayne could not find his manhood all at once; but at last he shook himself free of dread a little. "Ay, I heard some poor hound whimpering—it has crept away to die, belike, after eating what those cursed Ratcliffes dropped. Come, child! There's naught save ague to be gained by staying among the night dews here."
CHAPTER XI
HOW THE RATCLIFFES RODE OUT BY STEALTH
The moon was crisp and clear over the low pastures when Griff and his brothers went down for the hunting. Wayne of Cranshaw had hit the truth when he said that they feared denial from Shameless Wayne, and so had slipped out quietly while their elders were discussing the old vexed topic as to whether Marsh should be left to its fate.