ugh the darkness of the
workings, telling me where I should stoop, and when the way was uneven.
Thus we came to the bottom of the shaft, and looking up through ferns
and brambles, I could see the deep blue of the sky overhead, and a great
star gazing down full at us. We climbed the steps with the soap-stone
slide at one side, and then walked on briskly over the springy turf
through the hillocks of the coveted quarry-heaps and the ruins of the
deserted cottages.

There was a heavy dew which got through my boots before we had gone half
a mile, and though there was no moon, the sky was very clear, and I could
see the veil of gossamers spread silvery white over the grass. Neither of
us spoke, partly because it was safer not to speak, for the voice carries
far in a still night on the Downs; and partly, I think, because the
beauty of the starry heaven had taken hold upon us both, ruling our
hearts with thoughts too big for words. We soon reached that ruined
cottage of which Elzevir had spoken, and in what had once been an oven,
found the compass safe enough as Ratsey had promised. Then on again over
the solitary hills, not speaking ourselves, and neither seeing light in
window nor hearing dog stir, until we reached that strange defile which
men call the Gates of Purbeck. Here is a natural road nicking the
highest summit of the hill, with walls as sharp as if the hand of man had
cut them, through which have walked for ages all the few travellers in
this lonely place, shepherds and sailors, soldiers and Excisemen. And
although, as I suppose, no carts have been through it for centuries,
there are ruts in the chalk floor as wide and deep as if the cars of
giants used it in past times.

So here Elzevir stopped, and drawing from his bosom that silver-butted
pistol of which I have spoken, thrust it in my hand. 'Here, take it,
child,' he said, 'but use it not till thou art closely pressed, and then
if thou _must_ shoot, shoot low--it flings.' I took it and gripped his
hand, and so we parted, he going back to Purbeck, and I making along the
top of the ridge at the back of Hoar Head. It must have been near three
when I reached a great grass-grown mound called Culliford Tree, that
marks the resting-place of some old warrior of the past. The top is
planted with a clump of trees that cut the skyline, and there I sat
awhile to rest. But not for long, for looking back towards Purbeck, I
could see the faint hint of dawn low on the sea-line