But ere they had sate long, they heard footsteps, and listened. They certainly heard them and shouted, but there was no answer. David shouted, ‘Help! fayther! mother! help!’ but there was no answer. The wind swept fiercely by; the hawks whimpered from the high crags, lost in the darkness of the storm; and the rain fell, driving along icy cold. Presently, there was a gleam of light through the clouds; the hill side became visible, and through the haze they saw a tall figure as of an old man ascending the hill. He appeared to carry two loads slung from his shoulders by a strap; a box hanging before, and a bag hanging at his back. He wound up the hill slowly and wearily, and presently he stopped and relieving himself of his load, seated himself on a piece of crag to rest. Again David shouted, but there still was no answer. The old man sate as if no shout had been heard—immoveable. ‘It _is_ a man,’ said David, ‘and I _will_ make him hear;’ and with that he shouted once more with all his might. But the old man made no sign of recognition. He did not even turn his head, but he took off his hat and began to wipe his brow as if warm with the ascent. ‘What can it be?’ said David in astonishment. ‘It _is_ a man, that’s sartain. I’ll run and see.’ ‘Nay, nay!’ shrieked the sisters. ‘Don’t, David! don’t! It’s perhaps the old man out of the mountain that’s been mocking us. Perhaps,’ added Jane, ‘he only comes out in starms and darkness.’ ‘Stuff!’ said David, ‘an echo isn’t a man; it’s only our own voices. I’ll see who it is; and away he darted, spite of the poor girl’s crying in terror, ‘Don’t; don’t, David! Oh, don’t.’ But David was gone. He was not long in reaching the old man, who sate on his stone breathing hard, as if out of breath with his ascent, but not appearing to perceive David’s approach. The rain and the wind drove fiercely upon him, but he did not seem to mind it. David was half afraid to approach close to him, but he called out, ‘Help; help, mester!’ The old man remained as unconscious of his presence. ‘Hillo!’ cried David again. ‘Can you tell us the way down, mester?’ There was no answer, and David was beginning to feel a shudder of terror run through every limb, when the clouds cleared considerably, and he suddenly exclaimed, ‘Why, it’s old Tobias Turton of top of Edale, and he’s as deaf as a door nail!’ In an instant, David was at his side; seized his coat to make him aware of his presence, and, on the old man perceiving him, shouted in his ear, ‘Which is the way down here, Mester Turton? Where’s the track?’ ‘Down? Weighs o’ the back?’ said the old man; ‘ay, my lad, I was fain to sit down; it does weigh o’ th’ back, sure enough.’ ‘Where’s the foot-track?’ shouted David, again. ‘Th’ foot-track? Why, what art ta doing here, my lad, in such a starm? Isn’t it David Dunster’s lad?’