"The storm is terrible," I continued. "They may perish in it."
The answer came. "They meet their fate. Leave them to their doom. In the morning their sufferings will be over."
"And I shall live," I said, "guilty and self-condemned. There is no such thing as fate. Human will can save or destroy. They are human, and I will go to them."
The rain and the wind almost blinded me as I walked from my cottage to the gates. All the while the voices continued to beseech despairingly and bitterly, calling upon man, calling upon God.
I heard one say, "Hush! There's somebody coming."
The next moment I opened the gates.
"Ah, master," cried a woman, "for the love of God tell us the way to Purvis's huts! Jump down, Jim; you've pretty nigh broke my blade-bone in."
A tall man jumped from the woman's shoulders to the ground. It was from that elevated position he had seen the light in my room.
"I don't know Purvis or his huts," I said. "What are you?"
"Hoppers, master. We're bound for Purvis's gardens, and we thought we should get to the sleeping huts before night set in; but we missed our way, and have been tramping through the rain for I don't know how many hours. I'm soaked through and through, and am ready to drop."