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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 427 pages of information about The Return of the Native.

Here was a Scyllaeo-Charybdean position for a poor boy.  Pausing when again safe from discovery, he finally decided to face the pit phenomenon as the lesser evil.  With a heavy sigh he retraced the slope, and followed the path he had followed before.

The light had gone, the rising dust had disappeared—­he hoped for ever.  He marched resolutely along, and found nothing to alarm him till, coming within a few yards of the sandpit, he heard a slight noise in front, which led him to halt.  The halt was but momentary, for the noise resolved itself into the steady bites of two animals grazing.

“Two he’th-croppers down here,” he said aloud.  “I have never known ’em come down so far afore.”

The animals were in the direct line of his path, but that the child thought little of; he had played round the fetlocks of horses from his infancy.  On coming nearer, however, the boy was somewhat surprised to find that the little creatures did not run off, and that each wore a clog, to prevent his going astray; this signified that they had been broken in.  He could now see the interior of the pit, which, being in the side of the hill, had a level entrance.  In the innermost corner the square outline of a van appeared, with its back towards him.  A light came from the interior, and threw a moving shadow upon the vertical face of gravel at the further side of the pit into which the vehicle faced.

The child assumed that this was the cart of a gipsy, and his dread of those wanderers reached but to that mild pitch which titillates rather than pains.  Only a few inches of mud wall kept him and his family from being gipsies themselves.  He skirted the gravel-pit at a respectful distance, ascended the slope, and came forward upon the brow, in order to look into the open door of the van and see the original of the shadow.

The picture alarmed the boy.  By a little stove inside the van sat a figure red from head to heels—­the man who had been Thomasin’s friend.  He was darning a stocking, which was red like the rest of him.  Moreover, as he darned he smoked a pipe, the stem and bowl of which were red also.

At this moment one of the heath-croppers feeding in the outer shadows was audibly shaking off the clog attached to its foot.  Aroused by the sound the reddleman laid down his stocking, lit a lantern which hung beside him, and came out from the van.  In sticking up the candle he lifted the lantern to his face, and the light shone into the whites of his eyes and upon his ivory teeth, which, in contrast with the red surrounding, lent him a startling aspect enough to the gaze of a juvenile.  The boy knew too well for his peace of mind upon whose lair he had lighted.  Uglier persons than gipsies were known to cross Egdon at times, and a reddleman was one of them.

“How I wish ’twas only a gipsy!” he murmured.

The man was by this time coming back from the horses.  In his fear of being seen the boy rendered detection certain by nervous motion.  The heather and peat stratum overhung the brow of the pit in mats, hiding the actual verge.  The boy had stepped beyond the solid ground; the heather now gave way, and down he rolled over the scarp of grey sand to the very foot of the man.

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