That fit of panic ceased. I gathered courage to look forth again at the intruders. The fellow with the binoculars had apparently satisfied himself, for he now sat on a boulder with his back to me watching his companion hunt around for dead heather and bits of stick carried by the autumn gales from our birch wood. My heart came into my mouth when I saw this fellow fling down a handful of sticks beside the boulder on which his comrade sat and point to the cluster of trees west of our cave. If he went there for wood we were lost. Our peat-stack, our paths, must betray us. But the man on the boulder commenced to speak vehemently. I could hear the angry tones of his voice, he was so loud and near, though I failed to distinguish his words. He gesticulated with his arms, pointing in all directions, but chiefly to the north-east; the noise of sheep swelled into a great lamentation. Eventually he jumped hastily to his feet and ran to the side of the burn in the gorge where he pointed at the ground and kicked something embedded in the moss. The other fellow bent submissively to wrench a fir root from the boggy ground. I was glad we had gone farther for our roots. They lit a fire and he with the binoculars returned to his seat on the stone.

They had a tattered and desperate air that daunted me. The one who seemed to be leader, and sat like a graven statue on the boulder, staring across the gorge and down the lochside to the moor, had a rifle slung over his shoulder; his binoculars-case was slung round his neck and dangled on his chest where it came easily to his hand. He was wearing a khaki jacket and grey trousers. I strained my eyes searching for the gleam of brass buttons on his jacket. I could not distinguish whether there were none, or if they had been blackened, but that single detail did more to impress me and fill me with forebodings than all the other signs of hazard that the men’s manner and clothes betrayed.

The companion of this armed man, more ragged and fierce in appearance than his leader, seemed far less dangerous. He was a large slouching creature, black-bearded and red-faced. His cap was drawn down over one eye, his jacket, too large even for his frame, was turned up at the wrists and I could see the lining above his hands. He had a furtive gait. He was for ever turning his large head over his shoulder and as he fed the fire he started every few moments to snatch up his rifle from where it lay on the ground, like one in constant fear.