The party put themselves in line of march once more. The boy had gone on
up where the wall of the dell was lowest, and Caius tramped beside
O'Shea, who led the pony.
Once up from the hollow, their eyes were dazzled at first with the flash
of the moonlight upon the water. From the top of the sand ridge they
could see the sea out beyond the surf--a measureless purple waste on
which far breakers rose and blossomed for a moment like a hedge of
whitethorn in May, and sank again with a glint of black in the shadow of
the next uprising.
They went down once more where they could see nothing but the surf and
the sand-hills. The boy had walked far on; they saw his coated and
cowled figure swaying with the motion of his walk on the shining beach
in front. The tide was at its lowest. What the fishermen had said of it
was true: with the wind beating it up it had gone down but a third of
its rightful distance; and now the strip that it had to traverse to be
full again seemed alarmingly narrow, for a great part of their journey
was still to be made. The two men got up on the cart; the boy leaped up
when they reached him, before O'Shea could bring it to full stop for
him, and on they went. Even the pony seemed to realize that there was
need of haste.
They had travelled about two miles more when, in front of them, a cape
of rock was seen jutting across the beach, its rocky headland stretching
far into the sea.
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