The procession was soon gulfed in the mist, and long before the party reached Huntingdon, every member of it had become wet through. But Bullstone exhibited an amazing good temper. None present had seen him so cheerful for many days. He made no mistake about the way and when at last the white face of the cottage stared suddenly out of the fog and the naked limbs of the sycamore tree loomed above it, Winter was amazed.
"How you done it I can't say," he assured Jacob; "know the moor as I do, I was lost utterly before we'd gone half a mile."
They lighted a fire and dried themselves, while Peter boiled tea and Auna, at her father's direction, went to her own chamber to change her clothes. Bullstone's first act was to wind up his cuckoo clock. Then they made a meal and ate heartily while the weather grew worse. The fog banks rolled off to the lower ground and heavy rain began to fall. They worked with a will, that Peter, George and Winter might return before night fell. Such furniture as Bullstone had selected for his new home was dragged into the house, where Auna dried it. They made no attempt to order things, but just fetched in the contents of the carts and stacked all in the passage and little chambers.
From above came hammering, for Middleweek insisted on putting up the two bedsteads they had brought. They toiled mightily while the rain beat down and the foul day sank to its close. At four o'clock all was done and the carts started to get homeward in the last of the light.
The partings were brief; indeed Jacob did not say "good-bye" at Huntingdon, for he insisted on returning With them to a certain spot. Once there, a track might be picked up that would bring them to their road. He cared not for the weather, preserved his contented demeanour and expressed very hearty gratitude to Adam, to Middleweek and to his son for their good offices.
He was excited and thanked them all again and again.
"I'll make it up to you," he said. "It's done me a power of good to see what man will do for his fellow-man at a pinch. Don't think I'll forget such fine service. My turn will come to repay."
As they parted he indicated his intentions. It was clear that he proposed no temporary absence from his neighbours.
"Come the spring we shall meet again, no doubt," he said. "I don't want anybody up over for a couple of months or more. And if there are letters for me, show them to George, Peter, and answer them between you as you think fit. I'll open no more myself."
"Us'll get news of you afore that I hope," answered Winter. "You mustn't cut yourself off from your fellow-creatures altogether, Jacob."