The moonlight filtered through the low mist that rose half-way up the thin birch trunks on the top of the mound, but the shieling stood on a lower level, and when they went towards it the men’s forms got very indistinct.  They vanished, but he knew they had gone in when a pale stream of light flickered among the trees.

“A polisman’s trick,” Pete said in a low voice.  “A poacher would not ha’ let ye see the light.”

Foster felt that he must find out who the men were.  The thing was risky, but it was worth trying, and he crawled out from behind the stones.  The rock was rough and wet; his hand plunged into some water and he scraped his knee, but he made a few yards and then stopped and lay flat as the light went out.  It looked as if the others had heard him, and he lowered his head until his face was buried in withered fern.  There was silence for a few moments, and then his nerves tingled as he heard steps; the men, he thought, were coming out to look for him.  He did not move, however, and the footsteps got farther off.  By and by there was a sharp rustle and he cautiously looked up.  Two hazy figures showed among the trees, but it was plain that they were going away.

It was impossible to follow them without being heard, and he waited until Pete joined him.  So far as he could judge by the noise they made, the men were hurrying across the bog.

“They’re awa’, but I wouldna’ say they’ll no’ come back,” Pete remarked.  “If they dinna’ strike the right place, they’ll no’ find it easy to cross the burn.  She rins in a deep cut an’ the bottom’s saft.”

“What’s likely to happen if they get off the track?”

“Weel,” said Pete, with a chuckle, “it’s verra possible they’ll stop in the flow till morning, maybe up to the knees in mire.  I dinna’ think there’s much reason they should get in deeper, but they might.”

“But suppose they find the way and cross the burn?”

“Then, if they ken the dale, I would expect them to haud a bit south for Shopford, where they would find an inn, or maybe west by the Clattering ford to Canonbie.  If they dinna’ ken, it’s likely they’ll hae to sleep behind a dyke.  Noo, however, we’ll turn back and gang up the dale.”

They recrossed the bog and skirted the moor for some time, after which they went down a long slope and reached a level space of grass and heath.  They followed it north until a light shone ahead and the barking of dogs indicated that they were approaching a farm.  Pete went in first, and Foster did not know what explanation he gave, but the farmer told him to sit down when he entered the big, flagged kitchen.  He was not surprised when a woman who came in looked at him curiously, because he was wet and splashed, and bits of fern and heather stuck to his clothes, but his hosts asked no questions and presently gave him supper.

Soon afterwards he was shown a comfortable room and went to bed, leaving Pete with the others in the kitchen.  Foster was glad to feel he could be trusted not to tell them too much, although he would, no doubt, have to satisfy their curiosity to some extent.  A hint went a long way with the reserved Borderers.