of another planet. Here and there in the valleys he
saw a light, but such lights were few and far between; even as he
looked some of them twinkled and went out. It was evident that he and
Breton were presently to be alone with the night.

"How far?" he asked Breton as they walked away from the station.

"We'd better discuss matters," answered Breton. "The place is in a
narrow valley called Fossdale, some six or seven miles away across
these fells, and as wild a walk as any lover of such things could wish
for. It's half-past nine now, Spargo: I reckon it will take us a good
two and a half hours, if not more, to do it. Now, the question is--Do
we go straight there, or do we put up for the night? There's an inn
here at this junction: there's the Moor Cock Inn a mile or so along the
road which we must take before we turn off to the moorland and the
fells. It's going to be a black night--look at those masses of black
cloud gathering there!--and possibly a wet one, and we've no
waterproofs. But it's for you to say--I'm game for whatever you like."

"Do you know the way?" asked Spargo.

"I've been the way. In the daytime I could go straight ahead. I
remember all the landmarks. Even in the darkness I believe I can find
my way. But it's rough walking."

"We'll go straight there," said Spargo. "Every minute's precious.
But--can we get a mouthful of bread and cheese and a glass of ale
first?"

"Good idea! We'll call in at the 'Moor Cock.' Now then, while we're on
this firm road, step it out lively."

The "Moor Cock" was almost deserted at that hour: there was scarcely a
soul in it when the two travellers turned in to its dimly-lighted
parlour. The landlord, bringing the desired refreshment, looked hard at
Breton.

"Come our way again then, sir?" he remarked with a sudden grin of
recognition.

"Ah, you remember me?" said Breton.

"I call in mind when you came here with the two old gents last year,"
replied the landlord. "I hear they're here again--Tom Summers was
coming across that way this morning, and said he'd seen 'em at the
little cottage. Going to join 'em, I reckon, sir?"

Breton kicked Spargo under the table.

"Yes, we're going to have a day or two with them," he answered. "Just
to get a breath of your moorland air."

"Well, you'll have a roughish walk over there tonight, gentlemen," said
the landlord. "There's going to be a storm. And it's a stiffish way to
make out at this time o'night."

"Oh, we'll ma