I looked from the chapel window, and saw a vast tract of country around me, for the moon had risen high in the heavens; then, yielding to the impulse of the moment, I climbed to the highest peak on the great mass of stone. From this point I could see far in all directions, but no signs of life were visible. I could see Roche church tower among the trees, I could see the little village near. For the rest, nothing was in sight save vast stretches of moorland. Here and there was a cultivated field, but mostly the country-side was barren and forsaken.
I listened, but all was silent. The night was very calm, save for a sighing wind which as it entered a valley near made a low moaning sound. For a moment a superstitious dread laid hold on me. I remembered the story I had been told years before. It was said that the last heir of the Tregarrick family, on whose lands the rock stood, became weary of life, built the chapel in which old Anthony had taken up his abode, and called it St. Michael's Chapel. Here he lived many years and died in sorrow. Rumour also had it that Tregeagle's spirit, that ogre of Cornish childhood, haunted the rock and the moors, and often breathed forth his sorrow in sighs and moans. But I mastered my fears by an effort. I remembered how I had been beaten, and anger drove all other feelings away. The last heir of the Tregarricks and the Spirit of Tregeagle was nothing to me, living or dead.
I looked at my watch, and by the light of the moon discovered that it was midnight. I had, therefore, been asleep for ten hours. Darkness came on about six o'clock, so that in all probability they had left me long hours before. I racked my brains sorely in order to divine the direction they had taken, but without avail. Then I remembered that they must need horses, and wondered how they managed. I felt sure, however, that Uncle Anthony would be too full of devices to remain long in difficulty about horseflesh. As he had said, many horses grazed among the moors; they were of no great value, but doubtless he could obtain a couple that would serve his purpose. One they had already, on which Amelia Lanteglos had ridden, a useful animal which Benet Killigrew had taken from his father's stables. This set me thinking again, and without more ado I cautiously crept down to the moors. Giving a long shrill whistle which I had taught Chestnut to obey, I awaited results. In a few seconds I heard the sound of horse's hoofs; then in a short space of time the animal I had learnt to love came up to me, and with a whinny of gladness began to lick my hand.
"Ah, Chestnut, old boy," I laughed, "at any rate they could not steal you from me. Which way are they gone, my lad?"
As though he understood me, he turned his head southward.
"Well, Chestnut," I said, "I want to find them badly. You know which way they went. I leave everything to you."
Whereupon, I went to the hollow place under the rock into which I had thrown my saddle, and to my delight I found that Uncle Anthony had left both saddle and bridle untouched. A few seconds later I was on Chestnut's back.
"Follow them, Chestnut," I said; "I leave everything to you," and as though he understood me, he carefully picked his way among the rocks till he reached the highway, then without hesitation went westward towards the church. Presently we came to some cross-ways, where he hesitated, but only for a second. Putting his nose to the ground he sniffed uneasily around and then started on a brisk trot southward.
When I had gone perhaps three miles, all my hopes had departed. If the truth must be told, too, I felt more and more like giving up what seemed a useless quest. In spite of Chestnut choosing the southward road in preference to any other, I was very probably riding away from the maid Nancy and her companions, and even if I were not, what should I gain by following them?
"Let her go," I cried bitterly. "It has been an ill game I have been playing—an ill game. Let Uncle Anthony take her whither he will."