“Yes, it is done wilfully. That is to give the appearance of a vessel tacking up Channel. Stay behind, Judith. I will go on.”
“No. I will go with you. You would not find me again in the darkness if we parted.”
“The light is coming this way. Stand still. It will come directly on us.”
They drew up. Judith clung to Uncle Zachie’s side, her heart beating with excitement, indignation, and anger.
“The lantern is fastened to an ass’s head,” said Uncle Zachie; “do you see how as the creature moves his head the light is swayed, and that with the rise and fall in the land it looks as though the rise and fall were on the sea. I have my stick. Stand behind me, Judith.”
But a voice was heard that made her gasp and clasp the arm of Uncle Zachie the tighter.
Neither spoke.
The light approached. They could distinguish the lantern, though they could not see what bore it; only—next moment something caught the light—the ear of a donkey thrust forward.
Again a voice, that of some one urging on the ass.
Judith let go Menaida’s arm, sprang forward with a cry: “Jamie! Jamie! what are you doing!”