Bill sat on his bench smoking as before, while several tow-headed children romped and quarreled, chasing each other round and round the room with shouts of "You quit that ere!" "Mammy, I say, make her stop." "Hush!" cried the woman, suddenly straightening herself, and standing in a listening attitude, as a deep sound came to the ear, borne on the evening breeze.
"Hounds! bloodhounds!" cried Bill, springing to his feet with unwonted energy.

"And they're a-comin' this way; makin' straight for the house," he added, glancing from the door, then shutting it with a bang.

"They're after that man; you may depend.

He's a 'balitionist, or a horse thief, or somethin'." The children crouched, silent, pale, and terror-stricken, in a corner, while outside, the deep baying of the hounds drew nearer and nearer, and mingling with it came other sounds of horses' hoofs and the gruff voices of men.

Then a loud "Halloo the house!" "What's wanted ?" asked Bill, opening the one window and putting out his head.
"The burglar you're hiding from justice and the hounds have tracked to your door.