“All at Black Hill know?”

“Yes.  But they are not betrayers.  I do not show myself and am not called by my name.  I am Senor Nobody.”

“Senor Nobody.”

“When I broke Edinburgh gaol I fled to France through Spain.  There in the mountains I fell among brigands.  I had to find ransom.  Senor Nobody provided it.  I never saw him nor do I know his name....  Alexander!”

“Aye.”

“Was it you?”

“Aye.  I hated while I gave....  But I don’t hate now.  I don’t hate myself.  Ian!”

The fire played, the fire sang.

Alexander spoke:  “Now your bodily danger again—­You’ve put your head into the lion’s mouth!”

“That lion weighs nothing here.”

“I am glad that you came.  But now I wish to see you go!”

“Yes, I must go.”

“Is it back to France?”

“Yes—­or to America.  I do not know.  I have thought of that.  But here, first, I thought that I should go to White Farm.”

“It would add risk.  I do not think that it is needed.”

“Jarvis Barrow—­”

“The old man lies abed and his wits wander.  He would hardly know you, I think—­would not understand.  Leave him now, except as you find him within.”

“Her sister?”

“I will tell Gilian.  That is a wide and wise spirit.  She will understand.”

“Then it is come and gone—­”

“Disappear as you appeared!  None here wants your peril, and the griefs and evils were you taken.”

“I expected to go back.  The brig Seawing brought me.  It sails in a week’s time.”

“You must be upon it, then.”

“Yes, I suppose so.”  He drew a long, impatient breath.  “Let us leave all that!  Sufficient to the day—­I wander and wander, and there are stones and thorns—­and Circe, too!...  You have the steady light, but I have not!  The wind blows it—­it flickers!”

“Ah, I know flickering, too!”

“Is there a great Senor Somebody?  Sometimes I feel it—­and then there is only the wild ass in the desert!  The dust blinds and the mire sticks.”

“Ah, Old Saracen—­”

The other pushed the embers together.  “This cave—­this glen....  Do you remember that time we were in Amsterdam and each dreamed one night the same dream?”

“I remember.”

The fire was sinking for the night.  The moon was down in the western sky.  Around and around the cave and the glen and the night the inner ear heard, as it were, a long, faint, wordless cry for help.  Alexander brooded, brooded, his eyes upon the lessening flame.  At last, with a sudden movement, he rose.  “I smell the morning air.  Let us be going!”

The two covered the embers and left the cave.  The moon stood above the western rim of the glen, the sound of the water was deep and full, frost hung in the air, the trees great and small stood quiet, in a winter dream.  Ian and Alexander climbed the glen-side, avoiding Mother Binning’s cot.  Now they were in open country, moving toward Black Hill.