animals, and averse to hurting anything in the world; but he saw that there was only one way of preventing the cargo from being safely carried inland.  It went sorely against him to take an innocent life; but just as the horse passed him, he fired, aiming a little behind the near shoulder.  The horse gave a convulsive stagger and fell dead in the shafts.  There was then left one man with a pistol against four, who might or might not be armed.  Luckily it happened that the smugglers only carried bludgeons.  The coastguard saw that he could not hope to catch any of them, so he said quietly:  “I have another shot here, and I am quite safe up to thirty paces.  If you don’t clear away, I’ll have one of you; but I don’t say which one it will be.”

This practical address had a very good effect; the men wisely ran away.  The coastguard loaded his other pistol and mounted guard on the cart.

In the morning a passing tramp brought him help; the cart was conveyed to the station, and it was found that a splendid haul had been attempted.  There was a load of silks and brandy, which was worth a great deal of money.  This was the very last attempt at old-fashioned smuggling that ever was made on the north-east coast, and there is no doubt that the attempt would have been successful if only raw young sailors had been employed as guards, instead of an old hand who knew every move of the game.

The coastguardman received his promotion soon afterwards, and he continued to express his contempt for man-o’-war’s men and smugglers till he arrived at a very old age.

THE SUSPECTED MAN.

A tall girl used to wander about from village to village down the coast.  Strangers did not know what was the matter with her, but all the people who lived round the bay knew that she was out of her mind.  Her clothes were not very good, but she kept herself clean, and when she was in the humour she would help the neighbours.  She had no relations living, but she never went short of food, for the fishers and the farm people, and even the pitmen, took care to give her shelter and enough to eat.  She was mostly bare-headed, but in September, when the cotton-grass grew feathery, she liked to make herself a head-dress out of the grey plumes.  When her Sunday hat, as she called it, was on, she was fond of putting the red fronds of the dying bracken into her belt, and with those adornments she looked picturesque.

She was always humming to herself, but she never got beyond one silly old song which is common enough in the north country.  As she walked along the links she used to move her hands in a stupid way to the rhythm of her music.  The words that she sung are known to the people who live on the border, but nobody has ever completed the lyric to which they belong.  The two verses which she sang were:—­

    “Oh have you seen my bonny lad,
     And ken ye if he’s weel, O! 
     It’s owre the land and owre the sea
     He’s gyen to moor the keel, O!