For fifty yards the path ran straight up a steep ascent and then bore abruptly to the left. Here Athol and his chum were confronted by another gate which, unlike the outer one, was secured by a stout padlock and chain. On either side ran a laurel hedge almost as tall as the one separating the grounds from the highway. To the right hand gate-post was attached a socket supporting a large bell, the clapper being worked by means of a chain.
"I say, looks a bit fishy, eh?" remarked Dick, regarding the barrier with interest. "P'raps we've struck a private asylum."
"Don't know. Suppose if the owner wants to keep tramps and stranded wayfarers out, he's quite at liberty to do so," replied Athol. "However, necessity knows no law, so let's agitate the piece of sounding brass."
He jerked the chain. The bell rang out with startling loudness, the vibrations echoing and re-echoing between the pine clumps. The hammering ceased abruptly.
An old man, supporting himself by means of a stick, ambled through the snow, appearing from behind the hedge on the left of the gate. He was apparently about eighty years of age, wizened featured and white haired.
"What do you want?" he asked in a quavery voice. "My master sees no one except by appointment. If you have one, well and good; if you haven't, 'tisn't any use your stopping here."
As he spoke he made a snapping sound with his fingers and, in answer to the signal, two enormous bull-terriers lolled sullenly to the old man's side, and with the precision of a pair of music-hall twins, each bared his formidable teeth and growled menacingly.
Athol stood his ground. The chilliness of his reception had "set his back up."
"Look here, my man," he said with asperity. "You've done your duty by warning us, now go and tell your master that he is wanted—and look sharp about it."
Then, seeing the old fellow hesitate, he added,