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； ing 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 e 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 ing 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 ing 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。
The red man opened the lantern and turned it upon the figure of the prostrate boy。
“Who be ye？” he said。
“Johnny Nunsuch； master！”
“What were you doing up there？”
“I don’t know。”
“Watching me； I suppose？”
“Yes； master。”
“What did you watch me for？”
“Because I was ing home from Miss Vye’s bonfire。”
“Beest hurt？”
“No。”
“Why； yes； you be—your hand is bleeding。 e under my tilt and let me tie it up。”
“Please let me look for my sixpence。”
“How did you e by that？”
“Miss Vye gied it to me for keeping up her bonfire。”
The sixpence was found； and the man went to the van； the boy behind； almost holding his breath。
The man took a piece of rag from a satchel containing sewing materials； tore off a strip； which； like everything else； was tinged red； and proceeded to bind up the wound。
“My eyes have got foggy…like—please may I sit down； master？” said the boy。
“To be sure； poor chap。 ‘Tis enough to make you feel fainty。
Sit on that bundle。”
The man finished tying up the gash； and the boy said； “I think I’ll go home now； master。”
“You are rather afraid of me。 Do you know what I be？”
The child surveyed his vermilion figure up and down with much misgiving and finally said； “Yes。”
“Well； what？”
“The reddleman！” he faltered。
“Yes； that’s what I be。 Though there’s more than one。 You little children think there’s only one cuckoo； one fox； one giant； one devil； and one reddleman； when there’s lots of us all。”
“Is there？ You won’t carry me off in your bags； will ye； master？ ‘Tis said that the reddleman will sometimes。”
“Nonsense。 All that reddlemen do is sell reddle。 You see all these bags at the back of my cart？ They are not full of little boys—only full of red stuff。”
“Was you born a reddleman？”
“No； I took to it。 I should be as white as you if I were to give up the trade—that is； I should be white in time—perhaps six months； not at first； because ‘tis grow’d into my skin and won’t wash out。 Now； you’ll never be afraid of a reddleman again； will ye？”
“No； never。 Willy Orchard said he seed a red ghost here t’other day—perhaps that was you？”
“I was here t’other day。”
“Were you making that dusty light I saw by now？”
“Oh yes； I was beating out some bags。 And have you had a good bonfire up there？ I saw the light。 Why did Miss Vye want a bonfire so bad that she should give you sixpence to keep it up？”
“I don’t know。 I was tired； but she made me bide and keep up the fire just the same； while she kept going up across Rainbarrow way。”
“And how long did that last？”
“Until a hopfrog jumped into the pond。”
The reddleman suddenly ceased to talk idly。 “A hopfrog？” he inquired。 “Hopfrogs don’t jump into ponds this time of year。”
“They do； for I heard one。”
“Certain…sure？”
“Yes。 She told me afore that I should hear’n； and so I did。 They say she’s clever and deep； and perhaps she charmed ‘en to e。”
“And what then？”
“Then I came down here； and I was afeard； and I went back； but I didn’t like to speak to her； because of the gentleman； and I came on here again。”
“A gentleman—ah！ What did she say to him； my man？”
“Told him she supposed he had not married the other woman because he liked his old sweetheart best； and things like that。”
“What did the gentleman say to her； my sonny？”
“He only said he did like her best； and how he was ing to see her again under Rainbarrow o’ nights。”
“Ha！” cried the reddleman； slapping his hand against the side of his van so that the whole fabric shook under the blow。 “That’s the secret o’t！”
The little boy jumped clean from the stool。
“My man； don’t you be afraid；” said the dealer in red； suddenly being gentle。 “I forgot you were here。 That’s only a curious way reddlemen have of going mad for a moment； but they don’t hurt anybody。 And what did the lady say then？”
“I can’t mind。 Please； Master Reddleman； may I go home…along now？”
“Ay； to be sure you may。 I’ll go a bit of ways with you。”
He conducted the boy out of the gravel pit and into the path leading to his mother’s cottage。 When the little figure had vanished in the darkness the reddleman returned； resumed his seat by the fire； and proceeded to darn again。
9 … Love Leads a Shrewd Man into Strategy
Reddlemen of the old school are now but seldom seen。 Since the introduction of railways Wessex farmers have managed to do without these Mephistophelian visitants； and the bright pigment so largely used by shepherds in preparing sheep for the fair is obtained by other routes。 Even those who yet survive are losing the poetry of existence which characterized them when the pursuit of the trade meant periodical journeys to the pit whence the material was dug； a regular camping out from month to month； except in the depth of winter； a peregrination among farms which could be counted by the hundred； and in spite of this Arab existence the preservation of that respectability which is insured by the never…failing production of a well…lined purse。
Reddle spreads its lively hues over everything it lights on； and stamps unmistakably； as with the mark of Cain； any person who has handled it half an hour。
A child’s first sight of a reddleman was an epoch in his life。 That blood…coloured figure was a sublimation of all the horrid dreams which had afflicted the juvenile spirit since imagination began。 “The reddleman is ing for you！” had been the formulated threat of Wessex mothers for many generations。 He was successfully supplanted for a while； at the beginning of the present century； by Buonaparte； but as process of time rendered the latter personage stale and ineffective the older phrase resumed its early prominence。 And now the reddleman has in his turn followed Buonaparte to the land of worn…out bogeys； and his place is filled by modern inventions。
The reddleman lived like a gipsy； but gipsies he scorned。 He was about as thriving as travelling basket and mat makers； but he had nothing to do with them。 He was more decently born and brought up than the cattledrovers who passed and repassed him in his wanderings； but they merely nodded to him。 His stock was more valuable than that of pedlars； but they did not think so； and passed his cart with eyes straight ahead。 He was such an unnatural colour to look at that the men of roundabouts and waxwork shows seemed gentlemen beside him； but he considered them low pany； and remained aloof。 Among all these squatters and folks of the road the reddleman continually found himself； yet he was not of them。 His occupation tended to isolate him； and isolated he was mostly seen to be。
It was sometimes suggested that reddlemen were criminals for whose misdeeds other men wrongfully suffered—that in escaping the law they had not escaped their own consciences； and had taken to the trade as a lifelong penance。 Else why should they have chosen it？ In the present case such a question would have been particularly apposite。 The reddleman who had entered Egdon that afternoon was an instance of