As he was making his way over the fields in the direction of Gordel and the Girston road he “plumped fair into a fellow” who was walking towards him, and who uttered an impatient exclamation at the encounter. Job wished to know what the hangment he was doing there at that time of night; but received no answer, unless a suggestion that the questioner should betake himself to the devil could be regarded in that light. As the stranger was in Job’s words, “a likelier-looking chap” than himself and might for anything he knew be armed, as ill-disposed night prowlers were reported to be, he thought it prudent not to continue longer than was necessary in the man’s company, so wished him “Good night” as a measure of precaution and made his way as quickly as possible to the road. Arrived there curiosity got the better of other impulses and he stood and looked over the Close; and as sure as he was sitting on the bench of that bar-parlour a glimmer of light had caught his eye in the distance: a light that had moved up and down in the neighbourhood of the shippen for about a quarter of an hour and had then disappeared. Job, like the rest of the company, was hopeful that Swithin would be able to put two and two together. Swithin, however, was unfriendly and discouraging. “I saw nowt o’ no tramp,” he replied. “Job found a mare’s nest. Some fella’ll ha’ been taking a short cut to t’ high road, and Job’ll ha’ seen t’ light of my lantern through a chink i’ t’ shippen.” “Chinks doesn’t move up and down an’ back’ards an’ forrads same as a chap was seeking his gallus button,” returned Job doggedly: and Swithin turned on him with a fierceness that seemed out of all proportion to the occasion. “His gallus button! What does tha mean?” he asked almost menacingly. “It was only a figger o’ speech,” Job answered surlily; at a loss to know how he had aroused the old man’s ire. “Then keep your figgers o’ speech and your daft boggart tales to yourself,” growled Swithin. “You’ve no ’casion to cut up so rough ’cos I didn’t fancy t’ heifer,” said Job hotly; and disappointed that his communication had been received so coolly, he soon took his departure. The report spread, rumour companied with it; statements credible and incredible multiplied; a mysterious stranger of sinister appearance who lurked in the shadows and was never seen by day was believed in by every villager except Inman and Swithin. The old man was particularly incredulous and aggravatingly sarcastic. The word “daft” was always on his lips; but the evidence of things not seen was good enough for the generality, and faith in the obscure alien was almost universal.