"We'se goin', Miss Tranter!" announced Bill Bush, his wizened face all one broad grin. "We aint the sort to keep you up, never fear! Your worst customer's just cleared out!" "So I see!" replied Miss Tranter calmly,--then, nodding towards Helmsley, she said--"Your room's ready." Helmsley took the hint. He rose from his chair, and held out his hand to Peke. "Good-night!" he said. "You've been very kind to me, and I shan't forget it!" The herb-gatherer looked for a moment at the thin, refined white hand extended to him before grasping it in his own horny palm. Then-- "Good-night, old chap!" he responded heartily. "Ef I don't see ye i' the mornin' I'll leave ye a bottle o' yerb wine to take along wi' ye trampin', for the more ye drinks o't the soberer ye'll be an' the better ye'll like it. But ye should give up the idee o' footin' it to Cornwall; ye'll never git there without a liftin'." "I'll have a good try, anyway," rejoined Helmsley. "Good-night!" He turned towards Tom o' the Gleam. "Good-night!" "Good-night!" And Tom's dark eyes glowed upon him with a sombre intentness. "You know the old proverb which says, 'It's a long lane which has never a turning'?" Helmsley nodded with a faint smile. "Your turning's near at hand," said Tom. "Take my word for it!" "Will it be a pleasant turning?" asked Helmsley, still smiling. "Pleasant? Ay, and peaceful!" And Tom's mellow voice sank into a softer tone. "Peaceful as the strong love of a pure woman, and as sweet with contentment as is the summer when the harvest is full! Good-night!" Helmsley looked at him thoughtfully; there was something poetic and fascinating about the man. "I should like to meet you again," he said impulsively. "Would you?" Tom o' the Gleam smiled. "So you will, as sure as God's in heaven! But how or when, who can tell!" His handsome face clouded suddenly,--some dark shadow of pain or perplexity contracted his brows,--then he seemed to throw the feeling, whatever it was, aside, and his features cleared. "You are bound to meet me," he continued. "I am as much a part of this country as the woods and hills,--the Quantocks and Brendons know me as well as Exmoor and the Valley of Rocks. But you are safe from me and mine! Not one of our tribe will harm you,--you can pursue your way in peace--and if any one of us can give you help at any time, we will." "You speak of a community?" "I speak of a Republic!" answered Tom proudly. "There are thousands of men and women in these islands whom no king governs and no law controls,--free as the air and independent as the birds! They ask nothing at any man's hands--they take and they keep!" "Like the millionaires!" suggested Bill Bush, with a grin. "Right you are, Bill!--like the millionaires! None take more than they do, and none keep their takings closer!" "And very miserable they must surely be sometimes, on both their takings and their keepings," said Helmsley.