'Where do I go?' I asked.
'Botallack,' he replied. 'Ask for Captain Manack. And give him this.' He tossed his gold cigarette lighter across to me. 'That'll prove that I sent you to him. Now I'm going to get some sleep and I suggest you do the same.'
'What about your arm?' I asked.
'Indeed it's all right,' he said and curled himself up in his raincoat in front of the hot embers.
For some time I sat staring out into the black curtain of the rain. At length I grew sleepy and dozed off.
When I woke the sun was shining and I was alone in the cave. I went outside. The moors looked warm and friendly and the rubble of the old mine workings steamed gently in the warmth of the sun. The gold of the gorse shimmered in the heat and birds were singing.
I called. But no one answered. Dave had gone.
CHAPTER THREE
Cripples' Ease
The sun was westering as I climbed Cam Kenidjack. The great granite blocks of the earn were black against the flaming sky and the heather of the hillside was dark in shadow. But when I reached the top and stood on the huge, flat-topped slabs, I felt the faint warmth of the sun, and the heather on the farther slope glowed a warm purple. The moors spilled away from under my feet to a coastline that was torn and broken by old mine workings. It was as though one of the giants of Cornish legend had rootled along this rugged coast in search of boulders to hurl at some neighbouring Titan. The sea beyond was like a tray of burnished copper. A line of storm clouds lay black along the horizon, their ragged edges crimsoned by the red disc of the autumn sun. The wind blew strong and salt in my face.