minutes passed before I could mount; for I was stiff with fright. I
was too frightened after that to mind the snow; I was almost too
frightened to ride. Luckily for me the coming of the night-riders had
startled old Greylegs also; he trotted on gallantly, though sometimes
he floundered into a drift, and had to be helped out.

Before I came to the barn the snow stopped falling, except for a few
aimless flakes, which drifted from all sides in the air. It was very
dark still; the sky was like ink; but there was a feel of freshness (I
cannot describe it) which told me that the wind had changed. Presently
I saw the barn ahead of me, to the right of the road, spreading a red
glow of fire across the way. Old Greylegs seemed glad of the sight; he
gave a whinny and snorted. As well as he could he broke into a canter,
and carried me up to the door in style.

"Are you safe, Mrs Cottier?" I called out.

"What! Jim!" she answered. "How good of you to come for me!"

The barn, unlike most barns in that country, was of only one story.
It may have been a farmhouse in the long ago, for it had larger
windows than most barns. These had been stuffed with sacks and straw,
to keep out the weather. The door had been torn from its place by some
one in need of firewood; the roof was fairly sound; the floor was of
trampled earth. Well away from the doorway, in the centre of the barn,
some one had lighted a fire, using (as fuel) one of the faggots
stacked against the wall. The smoke had long since blown out of
doors. The air in the barn was clear and fresh. The fire had died down
to a ruddy heap of embers, which glowed and grew grey again, as the
draughts fanned them from the doorway. By the light of the fire I