Twilight deepened, night came, the snow ceased to fall for a time, then began again, but less thickly.  One hour went by, two, three.  Then came Robin Greenlaw and Peter Lindsay, riding, and with them horses for the two who waited at Skene’s cot.

Four men rode through the December night.  At dawn they neared the sea.  The snow fell no longer.  When the purple bars came into the east they saw in the first light the huddled roofs of a small seaport.  Beyond lay gray water, with shipping in the harbor.

At a crossroads the party divided.  Robin Greenlaw and Peter Lindsay took a way that should lead them far aside from this port, and then with circuitousness home.  Before they reached it they would separate, coming singly into their own dale, back to Black Hill, back to Littlefarm.  The laird of Glenfernie and Littlefarm, dismounting, moving aside, talked together for a few moments.  Ian gave Peter Lindsay a message for Mrs. Alison....  Good-bys were said.  Greenlaw remounted; he and Peter Lindsay moved slowly from the two bound to the port.  A dip of the earth presently hid them.  Alexander and Ian were left in the gray dawn.

“Alexander, I know the safe house and the safe man and the safe ship.  Why should you run further danger?  Let us say good-by now!”

“No, not now.”

“You have come to the edge of Scotland.  Say farewell here, and danger saved, rather than on the water stairs in a little while—­”

“No.  I will go farther, Ian.  There is Mackenzie’s house, over there.”

They rode through the winter dawn to the house at the edge of the port, where lived a quiet man and wife, under obligations to the Jardines.  There visited them now the laird of Glenfernie and his secretary, Mr. Strickland.

The latter, it seemed, was not well—­kept his room that day.  The laird of Glenfernie went about, indeed, but never once went near the waterside....  And yet, at eve, the master of the Seawing, riding in the harbor, took the resolution to sail by cockcrow.

The sun went down with red and gold, in a winter splendor.  Dark night followed, but, late, there rose a moon.  Alexander and Ian, coming down to the harbor edge at a specified place, found there the waiting boat with two rowers.  It hung before them on the just-lit water.  “Now, Old Steadfast, farewell!” said Ian.

“I am going a little farther.  Step in, man!”

The boat drove across, under the moon, to the Seawing.  The two mounted the brig’s side and, touching deck, found the captain, known to Ian, who had sailed before upon the Seawing, and known since yesterday to Glenfernie.  The captain welcomed them, his only passengers, using not their own names, but others that had been chosen.  In the cabin, under the swinging lantern, there followed a few words as to weather, ports, and sailing.  The tide served, the Seawing would be forth in an hour.  The captain, work calling, left them in the small lighted place.