A man who is accustomed to solitude gets this extra sense which announces like an alarm-clock the approach of one of his kind.
But I could hear nothing.

There was a scraping and rustling on the moor, but that was only the wind and the little wild things of the hills.

A fox, perhaps, or a blue hare.

I convinced my reason, but not my senses, and for long I lay awake with my ears at full cock and every nerve tense.

Then I fell asleep, and woke to the first flush of dawn.
The sun was behind the Coolin and the hills were black as ink, but far out in the western seas was a broad band of gold.