A young moon, and a clear sky still rarely light and lofty in the amber
after-glow, gave them a safe passage back.

When they reached the house among the trees, Gard bethought him of his
belongings.

"And my things from the quay?" he suggested.

"G'zammin! That boy has forgotten all about them, I'll be bound. I'll
take the cart down myself."

"I'll go with you."

When they got back with the box and bag, which no one had touched since
they were dropped on to the platform four hours before, they found that
Nance and Bernel had got home and gone off to bed, having taken
advantage of being across in Sark to call on some of their friends
there.

Gard wondered how they would have fared if they had happened to be on
the Coupée when the white horse went thundering across.

He dreamed that night that he was cautiously treading an endless white
path that swung up and down in the darkness like a piece of ribbon in a
breeze. And a great white horse came plunging at him out of the
darkness, and just as he gave himself up for lost, a sweet firm face in
a black sun-bonnet appeared suddenly in front of him, and the white
horse squealed and leaped over them and disappeared, while the stones he
had displaced went rattling down into the depths below.