"Ay, but tell me this, Coinneach," said the younger of the two men. "I have heard that in great terror your tongue will cleave to your mouth; and you cannot cry out. And what is to happen to you then, if one of those people came near to put a cold breath on you?" Coinneach did not answer this question: for the last few seconds he had been carefully scanning the darkened plain before him. "The boat is coming now, Calum," he whispered. "And it is just as noiseless as any ghost she is." And with that the two men got up from the rock on which they had been sitting, and went down to the water’s edge, where they waited in silence. There was a low whistle; Coinneach answered it. Presently a dark object became dimly visible in the gloom. It was a rowing-boat; and as she slowly drew near the prow sent ripples of phosphorescence trembling away into the dusk, while the blades of the muffled oars, each time they dipped, struck white fire down into the sea. It looked as if some huge and strange creature, with gauzy silver wings, was coming shoreward from out of the unknown deeps. Not a word was uttered by anyone. When the bow of the boat came near Coinneach caught it and checked it, so that it should not grate on the shingle. Then he and his companion tumbled in; two other oars, also muffled, were put in the rowlocks; and silently she went away again, under the guidance of a fifth man, who sate at the helm. Very soon the lights of Lochgarra were lost to view; they had got round one of the promontories. Out to seaward there was nothing visible at all; while the ’loom’ of the land was hardly to be distinguished from the overhanging; heavens that did not show a single star. And yet the steersman seemed to be sufficiently sure of his course. There was no calling a halt for consultation, nor any other sign of uncertainty. Noiselessly the four oars kept measured time; there were simultaneously the four sudden downward flashes of white—followed by a kind of seething of silver radiance deep in the dark water; then, here and there on the surface, a large and lambent jewel would shine keenly for a second or two, floating away on the ripples as the boat left it behind. Not one of the men smoked: that of itself showed that something unusual was happening. They kept their eyes on the sombre features of the adjacent shore—of which a landsman could have made next to nothing; or they turned to the dimly-descried outline of the low range of hills, where that could be made out against the sky. It was a long and monotonous pull—with absolute silence reigning. But at length a whispered "Easy, boys, easy!" told them that this part of their labour was about over; and now they proceeded with greater caution—merely dipping the tips of their oars in the water, while all their attention was concentrated on the blurred and vague shadows of the land.