He found a rough track, and presently the sky began to clear. Pale-blue patches opened in the thinning clouds, and gleams of sunshine, chased by shadow, touched the moor. Where they fell the brown heath turned red and withered fern glowed fiery yellow. The green road, cropped smooth by sheep and crossed by rills of water, swung sharply up and down, but at length it began a steady descent, and about four o'clock in the afternoon Foster stopped in the bottom of a deep glen.
A few rushy fields occupied the hollow and a house stood in the shelter of a thin fir wood. It had mullioned windows and a porch with pillars, but looked old, and the walls were speckled with lichens. A garden stretched about it, and looking in through the iron rails, Foster saw gnarled fruit trees fringed with moss. Their branches cut against a patch of saffron sky, and a faint warm glow touched the front of the building. There was a low window at its nearer end and Foster saw a woman sewing by the fire.
The house had a strangely homelike look after the barren moors, and Foster, feeling tired and cold, longed to ask for shelter. Had it been a farm, he might have done so, but he thought it belonged to some country laird and resumed his march. He never saw the house again, but remembered it now and then, as he had seen it with the fading light that shone through the old apple trees touching its lichened wall.
The road led upwards and he stopped for breath at the summit. The glen was now shut in and the light going, but here and there in the distance a loch reflected a pale gleam. A half-moon shone above the hills and the silver light got brighter as he went on. The wind had fallen and the silence was emphasized by the faint splash of water. After a time, he came down to lower ground where broken dykes divided straggling fields, but there was no sign of life until as he turned a corner an indistinct figure vanished among the dry fern in the shadow of a wall. Foster thought this curious, particularly when he passed the spot and saw nobody there, but there was an opening in the dyke for the sheep to go through.
A little farther on, the road ran across a field, and when he was near the middle he saw something move behind a gorse bush. Although it looked like a man's head, he did not stop. Going on, as if he had seen nothing, until he was close to the gorse, he left the track and walked swiftly but softly across the grass. When he reached the bush a man who had been crouching behind it sprang to his feet. He was tall and roughly dressed, and looked like a shepherd or farm-hand.
"Weel," he said with a truculent air, "what is it ye want with me?"
The question somewhat relieved Foster, who now noted the end of a long, thin net in the grass.
"I was curious to see what you were doing. Then I meant to ask the way to Langsyke."
"What are ye wanting there?"
"To stay the night. I was directed to a change-house where they'd take me in."