Because they shall dance to my music the music that I shall make here, on this spot, under the stars. Tiens! I shall play as if possessed. I feel that. I bet you. It is because I have found an artist an artist in Gantick. O-my-good-lor! It makes me expand!"

The charge-sheet, be it noted, was abnormally light: it comprised one single indictment. "Good Lord!" growled Admiral Trist, Chairman of the Bench, Master of the famous Gantick Harriers. "Six of us to hear a case of sleeping out!" "Who's the defendant?" asked Sir Felix Felix-Williams. "'Thomas Edwards' Don't know the name in these parts." "I doubt if he knows it himself, Sir Felix," answered Mr.

This was William Geake, who walked in from Gantick every Saturday to collect the sixpences and shillings of Vellan's Rents for its landlord, a well-to-do wine and spirit merchant at Tregarrick.

This is the story of Thatcher Ellery as it was told to me after his death, which happened one night a few weeks before I came home from school on my first summer holidays. His father, in the early years of the century, had kept the mill up at Trethake Water, two miles above Gantick. There were two sons, of whom Reub, the elder, succeeded to the mill. Nat had been apprenticed to the thatching.

As a man of indisputable probity and an unwearying walker, Geake was entrusted with many odd jobs of this kind in the country round, filling in with them such idle corners as his trade of carpenter and undertaker to Gantick village might leave in the six working days.

Out of it he drew a sheep's-wool cape, worn very thin; and then turned the bag inside out, on the chance of a forgotten crust. The disappointment that followed he took calmly being on the whole a sweet-tempered man, nor easily angered except by an affront on his vanity. His violent rancour against the people of Gantick arose from their indifference to his playing.

It seems that the village of Gantick, half a mile away, was used once in every year to purge itself of evil. To this end the villagers prepared a huge dragon of pasteboard and marched out with it to a sandy common, since cut up by tin-works, but still known as Dragon's Moor.

And away back in Plymouth the bells kept on ringing. "That's the story. You asked how I could tell what the blessed Lord felt like when Peter denied. I don't know. But I seemed to feel like it, just that once." I have a sincere respect and liking for the Vicar of Gantick "th' old Parson Kendall," as we call him but have somewhat avoided his hospitality since Mrs.

"Well, I reckoned I'd take a hand in the responses," he answered; and seemed about to say more, but turned on his heel and went back to his room, shutting the door behind him. We pass to a Saturday morning, two years later, and to William Geake's cottage at the western end of Gantick village.

"Dear me," said he, "if I hadn' almost forgot! I've a letter for 'ee, too." "Eh?" "Iss. A kind of a sailor-like lookin' chap came up to me i' the Half Moon yard as I was a takin' out the mare. 'Do you come from Gantick? says he, seein' no doubt Farmer Lear's name 'pon the cart. 'There or thereabouts, says I. 'Know Mister W. Geake? says he.