“ You hear that, Patten? A belt, he says.”
“ So I thought it was—a belt. But it wasn’t. You were quite right, and I was hopelessly wrong. I cannot understand it. The whole top is planted quite thick. Well, I went on into this wood, wheeling and dragging my bike, expecting every minute to come to a clearing, and then my misfortunes began. Thorns, I suppose; first I realised that the front tyre was slack, then the back. I couldn’t stop to do more than try to find the punctures and mark them; but even that was hopeless. So I ploughed on, and the farther I went, the less I liked the place.”
“ Not much poaching in that cover, eh, Patten?” said the Squire.
“ No, indeed, Master Henry: there’s very few cares to go——”
“ No, I know: never mind that now. Go on, Fanshawe.”
“ I
