Dan had no saddle, but, being a good rider, did not mind its absence. The bridle was sufficient to guide Simon, and Dan, having obtained a rough towel, jumped without difficulty on the bare back of his steed. Followed by Peter, who, knowing what was before him, came unwillingly, he rode up the path leading from the dell. Yet, mindful of the proximity of Mother Jericho's tribe, he took the precaution to lock up his caravan before leaving. Dan was too old and wary a traveller to trust to the taboo of the gipsy queen. Some member of the tribe less bound by authority than his fellows might break the unwritten law.
There was a chilly feeling in the air, and so strongly with the resinous odour of the pines blended the tang of salt sea-breezes, that Dan scented the ocean long before Simon climbed the ridge. There was an upward path, and this Dan followed, in the hope that it would lead him to the sea. It wound deviously among the pine trees, and at length emerged into a small clearing, whence Dan had a splendid view of Farbis and the sea. He halted Simon so as to take in the features of the place. It was well worth the ten minutes' examination he gave it.
Immediately below lay a large hollow almost in the shape of a circle, which curved towards the sea and there opened out into a narrow passage. Without doubt, at some remote epoch the ocean had roared through the gap and filled the hollow with salt waters, but the upheaval of the land had cut off the waves, and now the dry cup was filled with trees and houses.
The sides were clothed with pines, which climbed up to the top and straggled off in patches on to the barren moorland. From where Dan was stationed he could see the moors stretching on either side purple with heather, then the sudden dip of the land into the hollow, the giant rocks guarding its entrance, and beyond, the line of ocean sharply defined against the red sky of dawn. In the smokeless atmosphere all the features of the scene stood out with photographic distinctness.
The "village, a cluster of houses with one street, lay in the lowest part of the hollow. Among the pine trees, to the right, Dan saw a large house of weather-stained red brick, which he guessed was Farbis Court. From the clearing a path wound down to the village, and Dan descended thereby. To reach the sea he would have to pass through Farbis, and out by the gap where the giant rocks stood sentinel. All this, seen under the rosy tints of coming day, was very beautiful, and Dan gazed at it in silent admiration.
"Queer little place," he thought, as Simon jogged downward; "quite out of the track of civilization. A speck in these wide moorlands. What can the inhabitants do to keep themselves supplied with the necessaries of life? They can't live entirely on fish! I never saw so lonely a place. It must have been established by some hermit."
With cautious steps Simon descended the pathway, which was in anything but good repair. The edging of rough stone had fallen in parts, and here the rain had washed away huge gaps, perilous to the unwary foot. Dan found it impossible to guide the horse down a pathway as beset with snares as the Bridge of Mirza, so he wisely trusted to Simon's instinct. The animal justified the confidence placed in him, and landed his rider at the bottom without any mishap. He received a kind pat on the neck for such cleverness, a piece of attention of which he seemed appreciative.
Dan felt a curious sensation, as though he had been let down into a pit. On three sides of him rose the steep banks, covered with pines and shrubs and sappy grass. In front, an untended road led past some scattered houses into the village. Peter ran ahead as herald, and, with the sharp sea-breeze blowing in his face, Dan pushed forward.
Down the street clattered Simon, with the terrier barking before. To doors and windows came drowsy men and women, newly wakened from sleep. A few untidy children and slatternly females were in the street itself, and stared open-mouthed at the unaccustomed sight. Dan might have been the Wild Horseman himself, so profound was the sensation caused by his progress through that tumble-down village. Evidently strangers were rare in Farbis.
A more poverty-stricken place it is impossible to conceive. The cottages were badly thatched, the windows in many cases broken and mended with rags, and there were puddles in front of the doors. In a wide space towards the end of the village Dan came on the two principal buildings. To the right, an ivy-clad church with square Norman tower, set in a waste-looking graveyard; to the left, a flourishing-looking public-house, "The Red Deer," with benches outside. It could easily be seen, from the appearance of this latter place, what made Farbis so wretched. The women were all remarkably ugly, and particularly careless about their dress. Dan, who had a keen eye for a pretty face, shuddered at the Gorgons he beheld, and trembled to think of Mother Jericho's prophecy.