was nearly dry. Often, when I was a boy, I used to imagine the ships
coming up from the sea, along that valley, firing their cannon. In the
winter, when the snow melted, the valley would be flooded, till it
looked just like a sea, and then I would imagine sea-fights there,
with pirates in red caps boarding Spanish treasure galleons.

The seacoast is mostly very bold in that part of Devon. Even where
there are no cliffs, the land rises steeply from the sea, in grassy
hills, with boulders and broken rock, instead of a beach, below
them. There are small sandy beaches wherever the brooks run into the
sea. Everywhere else the shore is "steep-to"--so much so that in many
places it is very difficult to reach the sea. I mention this because,
later on, that steep coast gave me some queer adventures.



CHAPTER II

NIGHT-RIDERS


When I was twelve years old, something very terrible happened, with
good results for myself. The woman near Newton Abbot (I have spoken of
her several times) was a Mrs Cottier, the wife of a schoolmaster. Her
husband used to drink very hard, and in this particular year he was
turned out of the school, and lost his living. His wife left him then
(or rather he left her; for a long time no one knew what became of
him) and came to live with us, bringing with her little Hugh Cottier,
her son, a boy of about my own age. After that, life in my uncle's
house was a different thing to me. Mrs Cottier was very beautiful and