"I think this is a short cut to the Dingle, twin," Mary said. "What I call 'our lane' is down there to the left somewhere. Let's stand and listen a moment."

But there was no sound to break the silence, and except for Macbeth, who stood panting slightly between them, they seemed alone in a phantom world of black and silver.

"Phew!" said Dickie suddenly. "It's a bit ghostly, isn't it?"

"There's something white sticking up in front there, Dickie. I've been watching it. It doesn't move. What is it?"

Dickie shivered and jammed his hands into the pockets of his corduroys. He gulped and drew a deep breath before he trusted his voice. Then, "Just an old stick or something," he said. "Never mind about that, Mary. What we want is Uncle Beaver, else we'd better go back to bed."

"Go back?" said Mary scornfully. "When we're pledged to this great adventure? You're not afraid, are you, twin?"

Dickie's answer was a snort as he started on ahead.

So, in single file, they continued on their way up the track, until they left the trees behind and found themselves in a little valley, at the top of which was the ghostly finger pointing to the sky. And when they reached it they found that it was nothing more than an old weather-beaten signpost standing in the middle of a little rocky plateau round which their friend the stream now slid sullenly.

"Gosh!" said Dickie. "We've been here. This is the way we came the other day with David and Peter. Don't you remember, Mary? We came down this valley from the Chair. What are we going to do now?"

But Mary was looking at the arm of the signpost.

"You're right, twin. It says 'Black Dingle to Devil's Chair.'"

Then Macbeth barked sharply. He was standing under the signpost with ears cocked and his little square head tilted on one side. He was looking up the Dingle and lifted one paw as Mary bent and put her hand on his collar.

"Quiet, Mackie! What is it, boy?"

He barked again, and there was a scuttling in the heather as a rabbit dashed into the open, jumped the stream and bounded up the path. Macbeth yelped madly, broke from Mary's restraining hold and bolted in pursuit. She called him in vain, but Dickie was not really listening. He was pointing up the Dingle and squealing with excitement.

"I've seen him! Look, Mary! I'm sure that's old Uncle Beaver... Wait, and you'll see him, too."

Higher up the valley, perhaps a quarter of a mile ahead, the path left the stream and passed over a high rock. This rock was easily seen in the moonlight and, as the children watched, a thin black figure climbed slowly up and for a long moment was silhouetted clearly against the sky.