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“See here,” said he, passing over the spyglass, “if you can keep comfortable I’ve a notion that a bathe would do me good.”

Dan’l let him go. Ten minutes later, without help of the glass–his hand being too shaky to hold it steady–he saw the doctor in the water below him, swimming out to sea with a strong breast-stroke. Three hundred yards, maybe, he swam out in a straight line, appeared to float and tread water for a minute or two, and so made back for shore. In less than half an hour he was back again at Dan’l’s side, and his face changed from its grey look to the picture of health.

“I want you to answer me a question if you can,” said he. “Does your friend, Mr. Phoby Geen, wear a peewit’s wing-feather in his hat?”

“He does, or did,” answered Dan’l; “in one of his hats, at least. Did you meet the man down there?”

“No; and I’ve never set eyes on him in my life,” said the doctor. “I just guessed.” He laughed cheerful-like, enjoying Dan’l’s wonder. “But this guess,” he went on, “changes the campaign a little; and I’ll have to ask you to lie here alone for some while longer–maybe an hour and more.”

He nodded and walked off, cautious at first, but with great strides as soon as he struck into the cliff-path. When he came in sight of the Folly he spied a man’s figure on the slope there among the furze, and the man was working up towards the Folly on the side of the hill hidden from William Sleep’s farm.

“Lend me a gun,” panted the doctor, running into the farmhouse. “A gun and a powder-horn, quick! And a lantern and wads, and a spare flint or two–never mind the shot-flask–” He told what he had seen. “I’ll keep the fellow under my eye now, and all you have to do, Mr. Tummels, is to take out his boat after sunset and bring her down to Cawse Ogo.”

He caught up the gun and ran out of the cottage, clucking under the hedges until he came round again to the farther side of the hill; and there he saw Master Phoby Geen come slamming out of the empty Folly and post down the slope at a swinging pace towards Cawse Ogo. “And a pretty rage he’s carrying with him I’ll wager,” said the doctor to himself. “The Lord send he doesn’t stumble upon Dan’l, or I may have to hurt him, which I don’t want, and lose the fun of this. I wouldn’t miss it now for five pounds.”

His heart jumped for joy when, still following, he saw the man turn down towards the shore by a track a good quarter of a mile to the right of the spot where Dan’l lay. He was satisfied now; and creeping back to Dan’l, he dropped his full length in the bracken and lay and laughed.

“But what’s the gun for?” Dan’l demanded.

“You’ve told me often enough about the seals on this bit of coast. Well, to-night, my friend, we’re going to have some fun with them.”

“Doctor, doctor, think of the risk! Besides, I ben’t strong enough for seal-hunting.”

“There’s no risk,” the doctor promised him; “and all the hunting you’ll be called upon to do is to sit still and smile. Have I been a good friend to you, or have I not?”

“The best friend in the world,” Dan’l answered fervent-like.

“On the strength of that you’ll have to trust me a little longer. I can’t afford you more than a little while longer, for my practice is going to the dogs already. I’ve sent word home by Tummels that if anyone in St. Ives falls sick to-day he’ll have to send over to Penzance.”

The greater part of the afternoon Dan’l slept, and the doctor smoked his pipe and kept watch. At six o’clock they finished the loaf that had been packed up with William Sleep’s clothes, emptied the doctor’s flask, and fell to discoursing for the last time upon religion. They talked of it till the sun went down in their faces, and then, just before darkness came up over the sea, the doctor rose.