The country through which our adventurers travelled, as evening approached, became gradually more hilly, and their march consequently more toilsome.  They were just about to give up all thought of proceeding further that night, when, on reaching the summit of a little hill, they beheld a bright red light shining at a considerable distance in the valley beyond.  With light steps and hearts full of hope they descended the hill and hastened towards it.

CHAPTER IX

THE HERMIT

It was now quite dark, and the whole country seemed alive with fire-flies.  These beautiful little insects sat upon the trees and bushes, spangling them as with living diamonds, and flew about in the air like little wandering stars.  Barney had seen them before, in the West Indies, but Martin had only heard of them; and his delight and amazement at their extreme brilliancy were very great.  Although he was naturally anxious to reach the light in the valley, in the hope that it might prove to proceed from some cottage, he could not refrain from stopping once or twice to catch these lovely creatures; and when he succeeded in doing so, and placed one on the palm of his hand, the light emitted from it was more brilliant than that of a small taper, and much more beautiful, for it was of a bluish colour, and very intense,—­more like the light reflected from a jewel than a flame of fire.  He could have read a book by means of it quite easily.

In half an hour they drew near to the light, which they found proceeded from the window of a small cottage or hut.

“Whist, Martin,” whispered Barney, as they approached the hut on tiptoe; “there may be savages into it, an’ there’s no sayin’ what sort o’ craturs they are in them parts.”

When about fifty yards distant, they could see through the open window into the room where the light burned; and what they beheld there was well calculated to fill them with surprise.  On a rude wooden chair, at a rough unpainted table, a man was seated, with his head resting on his hand, and his eyes fixed intently on a book.  Owing to the distance, and the few leaves and branches that intervened between them and the hut, they could not observe him very distinctly.  But it was evident that he was a large and strong man, a little past the prime of life.  The hair of his head and beard was black and bushy, and streaked with silver-grey.  His face was massive, and of a dark olive complexion, with an expression of sadness on it, strangely mingled with stern gravity.  His broad shoulders—­and, indeed, his whole person—­were enveloped in the coarse folds of a long gown or robe, gathered in at the waist with a broad band of leather.