“Yes, sir,” I answered. “I think I do, sir.”
“What is it you hear, Martin?”
“I think I hear a horse's hoofs, sir.”
“Behind us?”
“Yes, sir. A long way behind.”
“Hold on then, boy. I'm going to pull up.”
We halted for an instant in the midst of a wide fiat desert, the loneliest place on God's earth. For an instant in the stillness we heard the trot trot of a horse's hoofs. Then the unseen rider behind us halted, too, as though uncertain how to ride, with our hoofs silent.
“There,” said Mr. Jermyn. “You see. Now we'll make him go on again.” He shook the horse into his trot again, talking to him in a little low voice that shook with excitement. Sure enough, after a moment the trot sounded out behind us. It was as though our wraiths were riding behind us, following us home. “I'll make sure,” said Mr. Jermyn, pulling up again.
“You're a cunning dog,” he said gently. “You heard that?” Indeed, it sounded uncanny. The unseen rider had feared to pull up, guessing that we had guessed his intentions. Instead of pulling up he did a much more ominous thing, he slowed his pace perceptibly. We could hear the change in the beat of the horse-hoofs. “Cunning lad,” said Mr. Jermyn. “I've a good mind to shoot that man, Martin. He's following us. Pity it's so dark. One can never be sure in the dark like this. But I don't know. I'd like to see who it is.”
We trotted on again at our usual pace. Presently, something occurred to me. Mr. Jermyn, I said; “would you like me to see who it is? I could slip off as we go. I could lie down flat so that he would pass against the sky. Then you could come back for me.”