Heedless of the fact that he was running straight upon a shore set with reefs like gigantic teeth, he tautened the sail and let the boat rush forward, and was almost havened when, with a grinding rip, the _Fionnaghal_ stopped, filled, leaned over, and hung upon a jagged reef, as a dead body suspended on the horn that has gored it. Alastair was thrown forward by the shock. Bruised and stunned, he lay motionless for a few seconds while the water poured over him. Then, rising and casting a keen glance around, he stepped on to the reef, sprang thence to a rock nearer the shore, and thence to the shore itself. As he left the boat, it split. The larger half went drifting on the tide. He sat down to watch idly for the disappearance of the few planks which remained. Suddenly, without cause, he rose, stared wildly at the sea and along the shore on either hand, and then moved rapidly inland--often casting furtive glances behind him, now on the one side, now on the other. No other lived on I-Mònair than a shepherd and his wife; and they only through the summer months. Sometimes weeks passed by without their seeing another soul: without other sign of the world of men than the smoke of a steamer far upon the horizon, or the brown patches in the distance when the herring-trawlers ventured oceanward. No wonder, then, that Fearghas McIan gave a cry of astonishment, that was partly fear, when he saw a man walking swiftly toward him ... a man who appeared to have dropped from the clouds; for, looking beyond the stranger, the shepherd could see no sign of trawler, wherry, or boat of any kind. "Diònaid, Diònaid," he cried to his wife, who had come to the door of the cottage to see if he were at hand for his porridge; "Trothad so ... bi ealamh, bi ealamh: quick, quick, come here." They stood together as Alastair slowly drew near. When he was close, he stopped, looking at them curiously, and with an air as if he wondered who they were and why they were there. "What is your name?" he asked quietly, looking at the shepherd. "C'ainm' tha ort?" he repeated, as the man stared at him in surprise and something of alarm. "Fearghas McIan." "And yours?" he asked of the woman. "Diònaid McIan." "Cò tha sin?" he added abruptly, pointing to the cottage: "who is there?" "No one." "I thought I saw some one come out, look at us, and go in again." Fearghas and Diònaid glanced at each other with eyes of dread. "C'ainm' tha ort?" asked the former, in turn. Alastair looked at him, as if uncomprehendingly; and then, in a low, dull voice, said that he was tired; that he was hungry, and thirsty, and wet. "Tha mi glé sgith; tha an t acras orm; tha am pathadh orm; tha mi flìuch." "How did you come here?" "Tha mi glé sgith." "Did you come in a boat? Where is the boat you came in?" "Tha mi glé sgith." "What is your name? Are you of the isles?" "Tha mi glé sgith."