There were sounds as of a bare foot among
them.
Into the little cleft between the dunes, out of which we looked
over the sea, came a short man, dressed in a long, brown robe which
was girt to him with a cord, and had a hood which framed his
pleasant, red face. Black-haired and gray-eyed he was, and his
hands were those of one who works hard in the fields. There was a
carved, black wooden cross on the end of his cord girdle, and a
string of beads hung from it. At his heels was the brown dog, and
in his hand a long, shepherd's crook.
He came carelessly into the opening, looking from side to side as
he walked as if seeking the men he knew must be shipwrecked, and
stayed suddenly when he came on us. His face paled, and he half
started back, as if he was terrified. Then he recovered himself,
looked once more, started anew, and fairly turned and ran, the dog
leaping and barking round him. After him went Dalfin, laughing.
"Father," he cried in his own tongue, "father! Stay--we are
Irish--at least some of us are. I am. We are friends."
The man stopped at that and turned round, and without more ado
Dalfin the Prince unhelmed and bent his knee before him, saying
something which I did not catch. Whereon the man lifted his hand
and made the sign of the Cross over him, repeating some words in a
tongue which was strange to me.
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