But even as I hesitated he appeared again, fording the stream, his face set on the road we had come.  Whatever his errand was he had finished it, and was posting back to his master.  For a moment I thought I should follow him, but another instinct prevailed.  He had not come to this wild place for the scenery.  Somewhere down in the glen there was something or somebody that held the key of the mystery.  It was my business to stay there till I had unlocked it.  Besides, in two hours it would be dark, and I had had enough walking for one day.

I made my way to the stream side and had a long drink.  The corrie behind me was lit up with the westering sun, and the bald cliffs were flushed with pink and gold.  On each side of the stream was turf like a lawn, perhaps a hundred yards wide, and then a tangle of long heather and boulders right up to the edge of the great rocks.  I had never seen a more delectable evening, but I could not enjoy its peace because of my anxiety about the Portuguese Jew.  He had not been there more than half an hour, just about long enough for a man to travel to the first ridge across the burn and back.  Yet he had found time to do his business.  He might have left a letter in some prearranged place—­in which case I would stay there till the man it was meant for turned up.  Or he might have met someone, though I didn’t think that possible.  As I scanned the acres of rough moor and then looked at the sea lapping delicately on the grey sand I had the feeling that a knotty problem was before me.  It was too dark to try to track his steps.  That must be left for the morning, and I prayed that there would be no rain in the night.

I ate for supper most of the braxy ham and oatcake I had brought from Macmorran’s cottage.  It took some self-denial, for I was ferociously hungry, to save a little for breakfast next morning.  Then I pulled heather and bracken and made myself a bed in the shelter of a rock which stood on a knoll above the stream.  My bed-chamber was well hidden, but at the same time, if anything should appear in the early dawn, it gave me a prospect.  With my waterproof I was perfectly warm, and, after smoking two pipes, I fell asleep.

My night’s rest was broken.  First it was a fox which came and barked at my ear and woke me to a pitch-black night, with scarcely a star showing.  The next time it was nothing but a wandering hill-wind, but as I sat up and listened I thought I saw a spark of light near the edge of the sea.  It was only for a second, but it disquieted me.  I got out and climbed on the top of the rock, but all was still save for the gentle lap of the tide and the croak of some night bird among the crags.  The third time I was suddenly quite wide awake, and without any reason, for I had not been dreaming.  Now I have slept hundreds of times alone beside my horse on the veld, and I never knew any cause for such awakenings but the one, and that was the presence near me of some human being.  A man who is accustomed to solitude gets this extra sense which announces like an alarm-clock the approach of one of his kind.