He thought, however, that he had better move away lest she should ask him such questions that he would lose more than anything he would gain from talking to her. He was thankful she had not seen him go into the cave. “I think I must be moving on,” he said. “Will you not wait and hear your future told?” “No, I thank you; that can bide.” “It’s not good anyhow,” said old Moll with a vindictive light in her eyes, “it begins with heartache and goes on to worse.” “Good night to you,” said Ian and started up the gully. “Are you not coming back to your hiding place in there?” the old woman called maliciously. “I saw you come out and I shall be sitting here till you come back.” “Horrible old villain,” he said to himself, but he called out, “No, it’s all right for a temporary shelter, but no one could stay there.” Things indeed looked serious, how was he to get back? But he could not bear the thought of not saying good-bye to the children. Besides they absolutely must know that part of their secret had been discovered. He decided that unless the old hag roused his pursuers he was fairly safe; he could keep out of sight in bog-holes or the like during the day. If some one came very near, he must chance it and move on. True there was some risk, but Aline must know. The old woman was in the hollow where she could not see him; so he crept round and hid himself where he could watch without being observed. When daylight came he saw her rise and go into the outer cave; but he could not see what further she did. She then came back and sat down. Hours passed on, but she did not move. About mid-day she produced a small sack from under her kirtle and took something out and gnawed at it as before. She did the same again towards evening. Ian felt faint and hungry, but determined not to give in, even if he had to wait another night, though as he would have to go some twenty miles before he dared ask for food, his plight was becoming desperate. He crept quite close to her on the bare chance of her going to sleep in such a way that he could be quite sure of it and be able to slip past. However, toward sunset he heard her mutter to herself,--“Well, I cannot wait any more, it will be too cold.” She rose and hobbled over to the cave, where she broke down a light switch and bent it across the entrance, as though it had accidentally been done by the wind or some animal. She started a step or two down the little gully and then came back to her resting place and looked about. She picked up three bones. “They might tell tales,” she murmured, and, hiding them under her mantle, she walked down toward the river. When she reached the river she threw the bones into the dark water and watched them sink. But this Ian did not see.