when approaching a problem peter norcot rarely made any error in his point of attack. by nightfall upon the day of grace's promise he had left fox tor farm, and only she knew the reason. but to plymouth peter did not go. he returned home, visited his safe and took from it the sum of one thousand pounds in notes. any appeal to authority on behalf of john lee must be vain. he had been sentenced to death for high treason, and four days separated him from the gallows. norcot knew that the man would be hanged at exeter, and that he was to leave plymouth for that city under a military escort two days after his trial. he had learned the route of march and the constitution of the company responsible for the prisoner's safe custody. the journey would take two days, and the half-way house stood near ashburton. a non-commissioned officer commanded, and upon that man peter norcot centred his hopes. quarters for the company were already taken at westover farm, outside ashburton; and here the wool-stapler designed to appear in good time. during the hours of that night he doubted little but that he would achieve his purpose.

meanwhile a lesser man—one thomas putt—commands undivided attention. when kekewich returned to the servants' hall after announcing tea to grace and her lover, he found mrs. beer there. to them entered tom with a fine salmon; but no voice of approval rewarded his achievement, for kekewich was full of the tragic thing he had just heard.

"what a light it do throw!" cried dinah beer. "poor tibby lamb; an' the hunger of that dreadful wolf for her! now he'll get lee off—see if he don't—though he's got to ax king george."

"if lee knowed the price, i'm thinking as 'twould be more than norcot could do to free him," said kekewich. "i was for this marriage heart an' soul, so much as master; but he've changed since she runned away; an' so have i. i'm generally of his mind in secret, though i never tell the man so."

"'tis too dreadful to think of," declared dinah. "poor dear jack!—yet the price of his getting off be dreadful too."

"'twill kill her to marry him—honest gentleman though he be," said kekewich. "an' she'll do it. if mr. norcot gets lee off, she'll take him without another murmur."

then tom putt spoke. he knew a great deal about the matter of lee, for he had been permitted to see john at prince town and had afterwards got a message to him, through sergeant bradridge, that grace malherb was safe. to the sergeant fell lee's custody, and putt knew that on the morrow his uncle septimus bradridge would convey john from plymouth a day's march to westover farm.

apart from any question concerning grace, tom had already determined to see his old companion once again, and he knew exactly where the soldiers would make their noontide halt upon the following morning. now his mind quickened and he showed a spark of the genius that had so often been wasted in successful poaching on dart. first mr. putt begged kekewich to give him a few moments of private conversation, and then, when he and the old man were closeted together, john lee's friend explained a part of his purpose.

"my uncle's a fierce warrior, but he've always showed a great liking for me, and i know he'll not stand between me and a word or two with jack. the day's journey is to be broken where dean burn flows down out o' the woods between buckfastleigh and dean prior. 'tis a spot where two roads meet, and there's a bridge there. now i can get to that place afore they do; an' if i have speech with jack lee, 'twill put iron into his will."

"you might see norcot?"

"i shall not. norcot will tackle my uncle septimus to-morrow night at westover. an' he'll find my uncle's a man as wants a tidy mort o' money to go behind his duty. as to norcot, he'll get lee off, sure's fate; for jack would run like any other chap to save his neck. but not if he knowed what price norcot be getting for saving him. the gentleman may override sergeant bradridge, but he won't override jack lee."

"you'll want a bit of money, won't 'e, to get leave to talk to him?"

"ess, i shall," said putt. "that's what i wanted to say. a pound will go a long way with a common sojer, but not with my uncle. i wouldn't dare for to offer him small money. i shall just ax if i may speak to an old friend afore he's choked off; and i shall offer all you can let me have, an' hope for my mother's sake as uncle septimus will let me get a few private words."

"i can give 'e twenty pounds," said kekewich, "an' that's every penny i've got by me. money's scarce just now."

putt nodded gloomily, because the elder touched a thorny subject. for the first time since fox tor farm was built, had the master of it asked his men upon pay day to let their wages stand over for a week.

"i've not got a farden. gived my maid to chagford every penny," confessed mr. putt.

the old man nodded and produced his cash in the shape of two notes.

"i won't ax you your plans, thomas, for you wasn't born yesterday. 'tis a great source of strength that sergeant bradridge is your relation. be witty about it; an' if john lee can save her by taking his bad fortune like a man—well, so much the better, though 'tis a poor come along of it for him, poor chap."

tom pouched the money carefully, but made no comment on the other's words.

"i'll take my uncle this here fish i've catched," he said, "for he's a man fond of pretty eating, and was brought up on dart salmon. and i shall leave at cock-light to-morrow morning."

"good luck go with you. ban't often i wish anybody that; but this time i will for the maiden's sake. an' her good fortune will be his bad, poor blid! unless 'tis good fortune to die in a good cause."

"us never knows what'll happen," declared putt. "an' whether or no, 'tis bad fortune to be hanged, for it stops a man's usefulness."

the conversation ended with this just reflection, and very early next morning thomas went his way. mrs. beer provided him with plentiful supplies of food and, upon his own account, he visited the tool-shed and work-loft before setting out. with him he carried a stout stick, and his salmon as a gift for sergeant bradridge.

he struck into dean woods while it was yet early, then called at a farm hard by, where he was known, partook of a pint of beer and had some conversation with the farmer's son. presently, seated with this lad in front of a load of manure, putt jogged onwards and proceeded to a cross-road not far distant from robin herrick's old home at dean prior. here ran dean burn from its fountains on dartmoor; and to mr. putt this stream, now in full torrent after rain, offered interesting problems. he examined the waters with a professional eye, and his friend upon the cart laughed at him.

"ever thinking of fish; even at such a time as this!"

"no, by gor!" answered tom. "i'm just wondering how shallow it runs to the bridge yonder. lend me your whip an' i'll find out."

he proved to his satisfaction that there was deep water at hand, and then, while still in earnest conversation with the young farmer, thomas heard a tramp of feet and saw the troops advancing. thereupon his friend drew his cart and its burden into a side path by the stream, and putt, with the salmon well displayed, advanced to meet sergeant bradridge. the halt sounded as he approached. the troops grounded their arms and, weary and hungry after a march of fifteen miles, pulled food from their knapsacks and scattered in comfort by the grassy way. for drink, the river rolled at their feet.

sergeant bradridge himself had selected a comfortable spot upon a milestone, with a bank behind it for his back, just as tom appeared. all the soldiers were now at ease, save two sentries, who kept guard over the prisoner. lee was handcuffed, but his legs were free, and he had walked with his guards. he sat now, nodded and smiled at putt, and welcomed him gratefully. but thomas held his nose high, walked past the prisoner, and treated lee as one no longer to be recognised by self-respecting people.

"morning, uncle sep. i knowed you was passing this way, so i took a half-holiday, an' made bold to walk across the moor."

the sergeant was an elderly man with a ruddy face, a pompous bearing, and a feeble, kindly mouth quite concealed under heavy moustaches.

"tom, to be sure! sit down an' have a bite. 'tis dooty, an' a painful dooty. but us safeguards of the land have to do dirty work so well as clean work. that poor soul—well, but come to think of it, you knowed him better'n ever i shall. 'tis a strange world. back along i had to march your master out of war prison, 'cause mr. malherb got in a rage the day we found out about that hole under the walls; then i had to take this here poor soul down along to plymouth; an' now i be marching him to be hanged. talk o' wars! us as stays at home have just as terrible dooties thrust upon us."

"you was always ready for anything. nothing never puzzles you. my mother says that if an earthquake comed, you wouldn't run. but as for jack lee—well, i grant us liked him very well. but he turned traitor to please the women, an' i've done with him."

"ah!—a face like his was bound to get him mixed up with the female sex."

"you didn't ought to pity him—such a renowned king's man as you be," declared putt.

"you'm quite correct," assented the sergeant, proceeding with his bread and cheese. "but though a king's man, i'm one as looks to the bottom of my glass, and to the bottom of everything. many a poisonous root do bear wholesome seed. i've had speech with that chap, an' i'm devilish sorry for him—sorrier than he is for himself."

"you'm such a large-minded warrior, uncle sep. i wish there was more bradridge and less putt in my character, i'm sure. bradridges is always heroes."

"always—to a man," admitted the sergeant. "but your mother is a very proper-minded woman, an' you've got proper feelings, though you wouldn't go for a sojer when i wanted you."

"if he'd 'listed now," said tom, pointing with his thumb to john lee, "he'd never have found hisself in this fix."

"true for you. i wish i could take him to barracks 'stead of exeter gaol. a modest man; and since i give him your message that 'twas well with the young lady, he's been quite content. he told me he didn't fear death no more than i do."

"all comes of bad company," replied his nephew. "i was half in mind to take the man's hand just now, but i couldn't bring myself to do it."

the sergeant shook his head.

"that's the putt blood in you, thomas. a bradridge would never turn against a broken man just 'cause his life had fallen out crooked. granted he've done wrong. very well; he'm going to suffer for it. if you'd been tempted by a pretty maid, mayhap you'd be in the same box."

"he'm a traitor an' he tried to help they yankees out of prison. that's enough for me," said putt stoutly. "us'll leave him to his righteous fate. see here, uncle sep, here's a brave fish i've brought 'e, knowing what a tooth you've got for dart salmon. i thought as mother coaker—to westover farm where you lie to-night—would cook it for your supper."

without words sergeant bradridge smelt the fish carefully; then his face shone.

"fresh as a rose!" he said.

"catched essterday morn."

"you'm a good boy, tom, an' i thank you. call that chap there who's just had a drink in the river. i'll send him forward with this here fish an' give him a pound of it for his trouble. he knows the way."

thomas obeyed, and in ten minutes a soldier had started off with his sergeant's supper, while putt professed great amazement.

"what power to put in one man's hands. you can order 'em about seemingly like a shepherd orders his dog! in these parts, of course, the name of bradridge is a masterpiece. i lay they'll all turn out at buckfastleigh as you go marching through."

"'tis right a man's native town should mark his fame," said the soldier. "of course my name be a household word there; and for that very reason i'm going round by king's wood and bilberry hill, so as this poor chap shan't have all the eyes of the town upon him.'"

"'tis a rough road."

"not to me. i've knowed the way ever since i was breeched."

"well," said putt, rising, "i wish you kindly, uncle sep, and i hope you'll take it proper in me to have come. there's a chap going up through dean wood with a cart in a minute and i'll get a lift part o' the way to home."

"well, i'm much obliged to you and i won't forget it. i've often thought, thomas, as my maid 'liza wouldn't say 'no' to you. hast ever turned your mind to her?"

"never reckoned i was good enough."

"well, modesty's a very proper part of youth; but in love-making it can be carried too far. think of it. she'm homely, but for that matter so be you. an' none the worse for that. us can't all have picture-book faces."

"like that poor chap-fallen gallows man there. well, good-bye to 'e. an' my dooty."

tom shook hands with his uncle, moved a step or two off and glanced irresolutely where john lee sat between the standing soldiers. his hands were under his chin and his elbows on his knees.

"be damned if i can bring myself to do it!" said putt aloud; whereupon sergeant bradridge rose from the milestone and laid a hand upon his nephew's shoulder.

"don't harden your heart against him, my lad. he's in a tight place, and no man can ever give him more than a handshake and a 'god speed.' it won't hurt 'e to wish him better luck in a better world; an', being your comrade, you ought to do it."

putt scowled in the direction of john lee.

"if you say it's my dooty—you're such a masterful man. you get my secrets out of me like a lawyer! to tell truth, i had a dozen messages for the fellow from fox tor farm. and a last word from a maiden too. a good few tears have been shed for the chap, as hadn't an enemy in the world an' scores o' friends. 'twas kekewich axed me to speak to him; an' i named you, an' said as you'd never let me do it. and old kek, he said, 'your uncle bradridge is a man of valour an' a man knowed for his righteous character. such as him,' kek said, 'with a wife an' children an' a good heart, ain't going to stand between an orphan lad on his way to the gallows, and a last message from his friends.' he said also, 'give the sergeant this here token with an old man's respects to a hero, an' ax him from me to let you just have five minutes with poor jack lee out o' ear-shot o' the sojers. this money, he says, 'ban't no more'n a sign of respect for his character as a sojer and a christian; an' if there wasn't such men as him in the nation, us would have had boney over long afore to-day,' says kekewich."

"an' you wasn't going to deliver the old man's message?"

"didn't think 'twas worth while, for i never knowed, uncle sep, that you was so powerful a sojer you could allow me to go aside an' have a talk with the rascal. not as i wants to, i'm sure. 'why,' i said to kek, 'a general couldn't do it, let alone my uncle bradridge!' an' kek, he says, 'your uncle's every bit so good as a general in this job. he've got sole command, and his word's law. sergeants be the very thews of an army,' said kek, an' i suppose i ought to have believed him."

"certainly you did," declared the warrior. "every word he told you was truth. he'm a wise old man, and knows very well what he'm talking about. but as to money—'tis a ticklish thing to name it."

"so i told him, but he said you'd understand better'n a green lad like me. 'do 'e think i'd offer money to a great man like septimus bradridge?' i asked him. an' he said, 'i've got far too much respect for him to dream of such an insult; but i want him to take this here twenty pound just as a token of admiration from an old man who once had a son a sojer. and if he'll let you have ten minutes with poor jack, so as to cheer him up afore he goes into the valley of the shadow—why, 'tis only a sign he's as big in his heart as his valour, and nought to do at all with my present to him.'"

tom pulled out the money and handed it to sergeant bradridge.

"i'm glad you remembered your dooty," said his uncle sternly, taking the notes and putting them into his breast. "an' 'tis lucky that i'm a parent and a man above suspicion of a mean trick; so i can take this here momentum just the same as i'd take a medal for valour—in a big military spirit. you'll bear me witness i've twice axed you to speak to the prisoner afore; an' now i ax you to speak to him again."

"if as my uncle septimus you command me, i must obey," said putt reluctantly; "but i vow i won't be left with him over fifteen minutes. i can say all i've got to say inside that time. an', though the sojers mus'n't listen, i'd rather for 'em not to be too far off, for he might turn upon me."

"a handcuffed man! to think my sister's son be a coward!"

"he'm a desperate chap, an' us ban't all born with your great courage. if i sit 'pon yonder bank with him above the bridge, us won't be heard; an' if he sits 'pon top of the bank you can keep your eye upon us. out of your sight i will not trust myself with that man."

"that's reasonable," admitted the sergeant; "let him keep his head over the grass, so as i can see him all the while i smoke my pipe."

he looked at his watch. "fifteen minutes or so you shall have—him being an orphan."

"don't make it a minute longer, for 'tis a very nasty job for me. an' if i call out, i pray you'll run an' save me," implored putt.

with open contempt sergeant bradridge gave his order, and in a few moments tom found himself alone beside john lee on a shady bank above the stream. some thirty yards and a hillock of grass now separated him from the soldiers; while a little further off, sitting on the milestone, tom's uncle lighted his pipe, felt a pleasant crispness at his breast, and kept his eyes firmly fixed upon the back of john lee's head.