Chapter 49

‘Robert Rideout! Robert Rideout! Robert Rideout!’ Then it ceased. There was an urgency in it which came across the distance. But amid the echoing thuds of his axe, with a crackling of twigs and a smother of dust about him, Robert heard nothing, and, as no one knew where he was, no one came to disturb him, until, two hours later, a voice on the other side of the hedge observed: ‘Late for pleaching.’ It was Gipsy Johnson. He stood there looking up at Robert with his chocolate eyes like a faithful dog. ‘Ah!’ assented …