The Owosso times. (Owosso, Mich.) 1897-1926, 1913-02-07

mouse, Mr.. Thomas Hearne. whose
address in the visitors book was
briefly London. When / came down
to dinner that night found him al
ready seated at little table with my
knife and fork laid opposite. | wasn't
anxious to make new acquaintance,
but / couldn't very well ask them to
lay another table for my benefit. SO
! took my chair, and wished him good
evening as politely as possible.
He was a small. gray-bearded. man
of over sixty, as I reckoned, and he
seemed as disinclined for CONVERSE
ton as ever was. For that thanked
my luck, and worked through the din
ner with my brain busy with one plan
after another. 1t was just as coffee
was served that he asked the ques-
ton which startled me.
1.-THE landlord tells me you are
studying the stone remains on the
moor" he said. rs it your opinion
that they're Neolithic or Druidical?"
I cursed the landlord under my
breath. I had told him my story, but
had forgotten he might pass it on
to others.
1.-THE latter, undoubtedly" l said;
though, II the truth be told, had no
opinion whatever.
II cannot agree with you. They
were here before ever the Druids
came over the sea. May l ask what
arguments you adduce in support OF
your theory?"
Everything l had read about those
COMPOUNDED stones slipped out of my
mind In an instant. There was no
good trying to bluff him, for he prob
ably had the subject at his fingers
ends. So nodded my head wisely,
and suggested it was a bit too big
subject to start after dinner.
II saw you by the cairn and circle
above the Black brook this after
noon," he went on. rs that to be the
scene of your present Investigations"
II have no definite plan at present."
l said with a snap.
He took long look at me and
stopped his questions. l left the table
as soon as could do so decently, rout-
ed out the landlord and engaged
private room. l had had enough OF
taking meals with neolithic ex-
pert.
1t was blowing hard next day, a
fierce Northwestern that cleaned the
clouds out of the sky like a sponge
washes a slate.
Just after eleven l started out to
make further examination OF the po-
sition. l wasn't such fool as to
Hearne and a warder or two. as 1t
might be, spying on me from another
hillock, so I went down the high road
that lay as white and clear across the
gray moor as a streak of paint, until
had left the place some distance be-
hind me. No one, so far as l could see,
was in sight, and presently l turned
off the road along disused cart
track that seemed to lead in the d.
rection I wanted. It's ancient ruts
were filled with sprouting heather,
and the short moor turf had covered
up the hoof-marks with a velvet sur
face.
l had walked good quarter OF
mile, when, rounding curve OF the
hill, found the old road explained in
the ruins of small farm, one Of those
melancholy memorials of time when
frozen meat was unknown, and it
paid a man to breed cattle and sheep
and cultivate wheat field or two,
even on Dartmoor. The roof had
fallen in, and the woodwork had been
carried away, but the stone walls or
the house and outbuildings still re-
years of storm. A weather-beaten
cherry tree was pushing out its
spring LEAKAGE before the door.
Leaving the farm, l began to climb
the cairn hill, as I must call It for
want Of better name, which shell
tered the farm from the north and
west.
1t was rough walking, for the heath
er was set thick with granite bould-
ers. At last reached the top, skirt
ed the mound set about with stones
where the prehistoric chief lay sleep
ing-and very nearly stepped upon
the body Of that old fellow, Thomas
Hearne.
Luckily for me he never turned his
head. The wind on the face OF the
hill was blowing in great gusts like
the firing Of cannon, and my foot
steps had been drowned in its thun-
der. I crept back behind a heap Of
tumbled rocks and dropped on my
hands and knees, watching him
through a convenient crevice. He lay
.~&M\Mu,