FORESTALLED
Travelling all that long day, from the south-west of England to the Midlands, then from the Midlands to the north, Spargo and Breton came late at night to Hawes' Junction, on the border of Yorkshire and Westmoreland, and saw all around them in the half-darkness the of the great which that wild and of land. At that hour of the night and that silence, only by the of some the was and suggestive; it to Spargo as if London were a miles away, and the and of life a thing of another planet. Here and there in the he saw a light, but such lights were and between; as he looked some of them and out. It was 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 discuss matters," answered Breton. "The place is in a narrow called Fossdale, some six or seven miles away across these fells, and as wild a walk as any lover of such wish for. It's half-past nine now, Spargo: I it will take us a good two and a hours, if not more, to do it. Now, the question is—Do we go there, or do we put up for the night? There's an here at this junction: there's the Moor Cock Inn a mile or so along the road which we must take we turn off to the and the fells. It's going to be a black night—look at those of black cloud there!—and possibly a wet one, and we've no waterproofs. But it's for you to say—I'm game for you like."
"Do you know the way?" asked Spargo.
"I've been the way. In the I go ahead. I all the landmarks. Even in the I I can my way. But it's walking."
"We'll go there," said Spargo. "Every minute's precious. But—can we a of and and a of first?"
"Good idea! We'll call in at the 'Moor Cock.' Now then, while we're on this road, step it out lively."
The "Moor Cock" was almost at that hour: there was a in it when the two travellers in to its dimly-lighted parlour. The landlord, the refreshment, looked hard at Breton.
"Come our way again then, sir?" he with a of recognition.
"Ah, you me?" said Breton.
"I call in mind when you came here with the two old last year," the landlord. "I they're here again—Tom Summers was across that way this morning, and said he'd 'em at the little cottage. Going to join 'em, I reckon, sir?"
Breton Spargo under the table.
"Yes, we're going to have a day or two with them," he answered. "Just to a of your air."
"Well, you'll have a walk over there tonight, gentlemen," said the landlord. "There's going to be a storm. And it's a way to make out at this time o'night."
"Oh, we'll manage," said Breton, nonchalantly. "I know the way, and we're not of a wet skin."
The laughed, and on his long settle his arms and his elbows.
"There was a gentleman—London by his tongue—came in here this afternoon, and asked the way to Fossdale," he observed. "He'll be there long since—he'd have for his walk. Happen he's one of your party?—he asked where the old gentlemen's little was."
Again Spargo his and no sign. "One of their friends, perhaps," answered Breton. "What was he like?"
The ruminated. He was not good at and was of the fact.
"Well, a darkish, serious-faced gentleman," he said. "Stranger hereabouts, at all events. Wore a suit—something like your friend's there. Yes—he took some and with him when he what a long way it was."
"Wise man," Breton. He his own and cheese, and off the of his of ale. "Come on," he said, "let's be stepping."
Outside, in the almost darkness, Breton Spargo's arm.
"Who's the man?" he said. "Can you think, Spargo?"
"Can't" answered Spargo. "I was trying to, while that was talking. But—it's somebody that's got in us. Not Rathbury, anyhow—he's not serious-faced. Heavens, Breton, are you going to your way in this darkness?"
"You'll see presently. We the road a little. Then we turn up the there. On the top, if the night a bit, we ought to see Great Shunnor Fell and Lovely Seat—they're well over two thousand feet, and they up well. We want to make for a point clear them. But I you, Spargo, it's going!"
"Go ahead!" said Spargo. "It's the time in my life I did anything of this sort, but we're going on if it takes us all night. I couldn't sleep in any now that I've there's somebody ahead of us. Go first, old chap, and I'll follow."
Breton along the road. That was easy work, but when he off and to his way up the fell-side by what was no more than a sheep-track, Spargo's began. It to him that he was walking as in a nightmare; all that he saw was and heightened; the sky above; the of the hills; the of and pine; the of Breton and surely ahead. Now the ground was soft and under his feet; now it was and rugged; more than once he an in the wire-like and tripped, his knees. And in the end he himself to his on Breton, against the sky, and in his footsteps.
"Was there no other way than this?" he asked after a long of silence. "Do you to say those two—Elphick and Cardlestone—would take this way?"
"There is another way—down the valley, by Thwaite Bridge and Hardraw," answered Breton, "but it's miles and miles round. This is a cut across country, and in it's a walk. But at night—Gad!—here's the rain, Spargo!"
The rain came as it in that part of the world, with a that was as as it was heavy. The whole of the night was out; Spargo was only that he in a and was being drowned. But Breton, was keener, and who had more knowledge of the his into the of a group of rocks. He laughed a little as they closely together.
"This is a different of thing to work in Fleet
Street, Spargo," he said. "You would come on, you know."
"I'm going on if we go through and floods," answered Spargo. "I might have been to stop at the 'Moor Cock' if we hadn't of that in front. If he's after those two he's somebody who something. What I can't make out is—who he can be."
"Nor I," said Breton. "I can't think of who of this retreat. But—has it you, Spargo, that somebody may have been investigating?"
"Possible," Spargo. "One knows. I only wish we'd been a hours earlier. For I wanted to have the word with those two."
The rain as as it had come. Just as the cleared. And going to the top of the which they were then crossing, Breton pointed an arm to something away them.
"You see that?" he said. "That's a of water us and Cotterdale. We that on our right hand, climb the it, into Cotterdale, two more of fell, and come into Fossdale under Lovely Seat. There's a good two hours and a yet, Spargo. Think you can it?"
Spargo set his teeth.
"Go on!" he said.
Up hill, dale, now up to his in ground, now his shins, now his knees, Spargo, for the London lights, the well-paved London streets, the taxi-cab, the omnibus, after his guide. It to him that they had walked for and had a whole of and when at last Breton, on the of a wind-swept ridge, one hand on his companion's and pointed with the other.
"There!" he said. "There!"
Spargo looked ahead into the night. Far away, at what to him to be a distance, he saw the faint, very of a light—a of a light.
"That's the cottage," said Breton, "Late as it is, you see, they're up. And here's the of the journey. It'll take me all my time to the across this moor, Spargo, so step after me—there are and hereabouts."
Another hour had gone by the two came to the cottage. Sometimes the light had vanished, out by in the ground; always, when they saw it again, they were slowly nearer to it. And now when they were at last close to it, Spargo that he himself in one of the places he had been of imagining—so and a spot he had seen. In the light he see a narrow, stream, making its way over and from the high ground of Great Shunnor Fell. Opposite to the place at which they stood, on the of the moorland, a like of ground was by a ring of and pine; this protecting of trees a small of which looked as if it had been originally by some as a pen for the sheep. It was of no more than one in height, but of some length; a part of it was by and brushwood. And from one uncurtained, window the light of a lamp into the without.
Breton up on the of the stream.
"We've got to across there, Spargo," he said. "But as we're already to the it doesn't about another wetting. Have you any idea how long we've been walking?"
"Hours—days—years!" Spargo.
"I should say four hours," said Breton. "In that case, it's well past two o'clock, and the light will be in another hour or so. Now, once across this stream, what shall we do?"
"What have we come to do? Go to the cottage, of course!"
"Wait a bit. No need to them. By the they've got a light,
I take it that they're up. Look there!"
As he spoke, a the window it and the light.
"That's not Elphick, yet Cardlestone," said Spargo. "They're medium-heighted men. That's a man."
"Then it's the man the of the 'Moor Cock' told us about," said Breton. "Now, look here—I know every of this place. When we're across let me go up to the cottage, and I'll take an through that window and see who's inside. Come on."
He Spargo across the at a place where a of a natural bridge, and him keep quiet, up the bank to the cottage. Spargo, him, saw him make his way past the and until he came to a great which the window and the of the cottage. He in the of this but for a moment; then came and to his companion. His hand on Spargo's arm with a of excitement.
"Spargo!" he whispered. "Who on earth do you think the other man is?"
