170 THE BELLS 



comes from the moor the shrill cry of his 

 pursuers. At the sound he resumes his flight, 

 following the rude road through the village 

 towards Sennen Green, where he halts as if 

 loath to quit the abode of man for the wild 

 beyond. Death is approaching, but it must 

 overtake him ; he cannot await his fate. Whilst 

 the bells ring the old year out, the new year 

 in, he lopes on and on past Vellandreath, 

 past Genvor to the lonely Tregiffian cliffs. There 

 from a rise he looks back and sees the ex- 

 tended file of his enemies as they gallop down 

 the opposite slope. The ground in front is 

 studded with rocks. Threading his way among 

 these he finds himself within a score yards of 

 some men lying on the turf. As they lie they 

 form an irregular ring. Into this he passes 

 without an instant's hesitation and squats in their 

 midst. 



The stoats on the other hand fell to silence, 

 stopping motionless by the rocks. 



The men were smugglers and all asleep save 

 the sentry, who lay near the edge of the cliff 

 watching so eagerly for the expected boat that 

 he had not heard the stoats' cry, though it 

 sounded distinct above the roar of the sea. 



Presently the man rose to his feet and paced 

 up and down, his oilskins creaking as he moved. 



