brave of me, but it was not: I was scared almost out of my wits.



CHAPTER IV

THE HUT IN THE GORSE-BUSHES


The man was on us in three strides, with his hand on our collars,
frightening us out of any power to struggle. "You young fools," he
said, not unkindly. "Why couldn't you stop when I waved to you?"

We did not answer, nor did he seem to expect us to answer. He just
swung us round with our faces from the house, and hurried us, at a
smart run, down the road. "Don't you stir a muscle," he added as he
ran. "I'm not going to eat you, unless you drive me to it."

At the lower end of the wood, nearly half a mile from our home, the
scrub was very thick. It seemed to be a tangle of briars, too thick
for hounds--too thick, almost, for rabbits. Hugh and I had never been
in that part of the wood before, but our guide evidently knew it well,
for he never hesitated. He swung us on, panting as we were, along the
clearer parts, till we came to a part where our way seemed stopped by
gorse-bushes. They rose up, thick and dark, right in front of us. Our
guide stopped and told us to look down. Among the gnarled gorse-stems
there seemed to be a passage or "run" made by some beast, fox or
badger, going to and from his lair.

"Down you go," said our guide. "There's lots of room when you