“Then, sir, you ought to know something about that man Rodden; he’s a bad lot.”

“What makes you think so?”

“He knows all the doubtfullest and shadiest settlers about, and has long whispers with them, and gets a lot of money from them.  His pocketbook is just bulging out with bank bills.”

“Perhaps it is the payment of his grindstones, Rufus.”

“You don’t tell me that a lawyer, a clever man like you, believe in his grindstones?”

“Why not?  Doesn’t he make and sell them?”

“Yes; he makes them and sells them in bundles of half-a-dozen, but the buyer of a bundle only has two to show, and they’re no good, haven’t grit enough to sharpen a wooden spoon.”

“How do you know all this?”

“Mostly out of big Ben Toner.  He used to be a good sort of fellow, but is going all to ruination with the drink.  I saw his grindstones and what came between ’em.  It’s more like a barl than anything else, but Ben kept me off looking at it close.”

“Where does Toner live?”

“Down at the river where you’re going.  There’s a nice, quiet tavern there, where you’ll likely put up, and he’ll be round it, likely, and pretty well on by noon.  He don’t drink there, though, nor the tavern-keeper don’t buy no grindstones like he does.  Well, here you are on the track, and I must get back to help dad.  Keep right on till you come to the first clearing, and then ask your way.  Good-bye, wishing you a good time, and don’t forget that man Rodden.”  They shook the Baby warmly by the hand, and reciprocated his good wishes, Coristine promising to keep his eyes and ears open for news of the Grinstun man.

“Did you overhear our talk, Wilks, my boy?” he asked his friend.

“No; I thought it was private, and kept in the background.  I do not consider it honourable to listen to a conversation to which one is not invited, and doubtless it was of no interest to me.”

“But it is, Wilks; listen to this now,” and volubly the lawyer poured forth the information and his suspicions concerning Mr. Rawdon.  That gentleman’s ears would have tingled could he have heard the pleasant and complimentary things that Coristine said about him.

The first clearing the pedestrians reached, after an hour’s walk since parting with Rufus, was a desolate looking spot.  Some fallow fields were covered with thistles, docks, fire-weed and stately mulleins, with, here and there, an evening primrose, one or two of which the lawyer inserted in his flower-press.  There was hardly any ground under cultivation, and the orchard bore signs of neglect.  They saw a man in a barn painfully rolling along a heavy cylindrical bundle which had just come off a waggon.  As they advanced to ask him the way, he left his work and came to meet them, a being as unkempt as his farm, and with an unpleasant light in his bloodshot eye.

“What are you two spyin’ around fer at this time o’ day, stead o’ tendin’ to your work like the rest o’ folks?  Ef you want anything, speak out, ‘cause I’ve no time to be foolin’ round.”