The men were plainly visible and did not look like country people, for the hill farmers and shepherds walk with a curious gait.  Foster crouched down and waited, knowing he would get a useful hint when they reached the spot he had left.  They stopped and one picked up the newspaper, while his companion bent down and got up with something in his hand.  Foster, seeing that the fellow had found the matches, wondered whether he had made the trail too plain.  If they suspected the trick, they would know he was not far off and search for him.

He could not distinguish their faces and regretted this, because it would have been useful to know the men again, and when they began to talk their voices were too low for him to hear what they said.  Presently one left the road on the opposite side to the stream and climbed the bank, on which he stood as if he wished to look across the moor.  The other walked along the edge of the grass with his head bent, but Foster thought it was too dark to see any footprints he might have left.  The fellow came on a few yards towards the stream, and then stood still while Foster tried to study him, but could only distinguish his face as a white oval in the gathering dark.

He was anxious and puzzled, because he did not know whether the men wanted him or Lawrence.  The nearer of them would, no doubt, see him if he crossed the burn, but Foster thought he might seize and put the fellow out of action before the other came up.  This, however, would be risky, and since he did not know their intentions he was not sure he would gain much if he came off victor.  To his relief, the man went back and joined his companion in the road, where they stood looking about, and then set off rapidly down hill as if they had decided to go on to Jedburgh.

When their footsteps died away Foster turned back along the hedge and struck across the moor in the dark.  It would be better to avoid Jedburgh, and he must try to find the house that Pete had told him of.  He had some trouble in doing so and on the way fell into a bog, but at length a light blinked on a hillside and he came to a small building, sheltered by a few stunted ash trees.  A shed thatched with heather and a rough stone byre stood near the house, and a big peat-stack filled one end of a miry yard.  A dog ran out and circled around Foster, barking, until an old man with a lantern drove it off and asked what he wanted.

Foster said he wanted shelter for the night and was willing to pay for the accommodation, to which the other replied that they did not take in strangers.  When Foster stated that Long Pete had told him to go there he hesitated, and finally said, “Weel, ye can come awa’ in and see the mistress.”

The flagged kitchen was very clean and a big peat fire burned in the grate.  A black oak meal-chest stood against the wall and old-fashioned china filled the rack above.  On the opposite side, there was a large cupboard, which Foster thought concealed a bed.  The room was warm and looked comfortable after the wet moor.  Then Foster turned to the red-cheeked old woman who sat knitting by the fire and fixed on him a quietly-scrutinizing gaze.  He explained that he was tired and wanted to stay the night, adding that Pete had said they would be willing to accommodate him.