Bob, son of Battle . ^****^^T. CHAPTER I THE GRAY DOG THE sun stared brazenly down on a gray farmhouselying long and low in the shadow of the Muir Pike;on the ruins of peel-tower and barmkyn, relics of the timeof raids, it looked; on ranges of whitewashed outbuildings;on a goodly array of dark-thatched ricks. In the stack-yard, behind the lengthy range of stables,two men were thatching. One lay sprawling on the crestof the rick, the other stood perched on a ladder at a lowerlevel. The latter, small, old, with shrewd nutbrown counte-nance, was Tammas Thornton, who had served the Mooresof Kenmui
Bob, son of Battle . ^****^^T. CHAPTER I THE GRAY DOG THE sun stared brazenly down on a gray farmhouselying long and low in the shadow of the Muir Pike;on the ruins of peel-tower and barmkyn, relics of the timeof raids, it looked; on ranges of whitewashed outbuildings;on a goodly array of dark-thatched ricks. In the stack-yard, behind the lengthy range of stables,two men were thatching. One lay sprawling on the crestof the rick, the other stood perched on a ladder at a lowerlevel. The latter, small, old, with shrewd nutbrown counte-nance, was Tammas Thornton, who had served the Mooresof Kenmuir for more than half a century. The other, ontop of the stack, wrapped apparently in gloomy medi-tation, was Saml Todd. A solid Dalesman, he, withhuge hands and hairy arms; about his face an uncomelyaureole of stiff, red hair; and on his features, deep-seated, an expression of resolute melancholy. 2 THE GRAY DOG Ay, the Gray Dogs, bless em! the old man wassaying. Yo canna beat em not nohow. Known emony time this sixty year, I
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