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90 more away, Rangor Head stood up black as night, with the cloud-wrack wisping off its crest. In from the sea the fog was rolling white and cold. By the time Roger had walked half a mile, a chill mist was round him smotheringly close and he could barely hear his own footsteps on the shingle. There had been not a sound, when something touched his shoulder, and swinging around with a start, he saw standing there an ancient man. His face was seamed and wrinkled like a withered rose-haw, and his long white hair whipped about his cheeks like spindrift. His eyes were points of green that stared up at Roger with a look the lad could not fathom.

What brings you here on such a day?' asked the old man in a shrill voice. 'Strangers had maun be careful of these coasts. Better to go back to Radulgo. I'll lead ye the way.'

I'm going to Rangor Head,' said Roger.

"With that a look of menace crept to the old man's eyes and a sneer to his lip; but Roger struck off again. Though he heard no footfall, he knew that behind him the old man was following in the mirk. So he quickened his step—though he feared naught, for the man was ancient and feeble—and presently stood below