"It gave me a shocking turn," said Jenny.
"It made me feel rather funny," said May. "You know, all over like."
The girls shivered, and the cart jogged on across the waste. They passed a skewbald sign-post crowded with unfamiliar goblin names, and a dry tree from which once depended, Trewhella assured them, the bodies of three notorious smugglers. One of the carriage candles proved too short to sustain the double journey and presently flickered out gradually, so that the darkness on one side seemed actually to advance upon them. After a long interval of silence Trewhella pulled up with a jerk.
"Listen," he commanded.
"Oh, what is it?" asked Jenny, with visions of a murderer's approach. On a remote road sounded the trot of horses' hoofs miles away.
"Somebody coming after us," she gasped, clutching May's sleeve.
"No, that's a cart; but listen, can't you hear the sea?"
Ahead of them in the thick night like the singing of a kettle sounded the interminable ocean.
"Wind's getting up, I believe," said Trewhella. "There's an ugly smell in the air. Dirty weather, I suppose, dirty weather," he half chanted to himself, whipping up the mare.
Soon, indeed, with a wide sigh that filled the waste of darkness, the wind began to blow, setting all the withered rushes and stunted gorse bushes hissing and lisping. The effort, however, was momentary; and presently the gust died away in a calm almost profounder than before. After another two miles of puddles and darkness, the heavy air was tempered with an unwonted freshness. The farmer again pulled up.