low, firm voice.

"It's I, father." Walter, also with a gun under his arm, came forward and
halted in the outer ring of light.

"H'm," the Squire muttered testily. "Better you were in bed, I should
say. This may be a whole night's business, and you have a long journey
before you tomorrow."

The boy's face was white: he seemed to shiver at his father's words, and
Father Halloran, accustomed to read his face, saw, or thought he saw--
years afterwards told himself that he saw--a hunted, desperate look in it,
as of one who forces himself into the company he most dreads rather than
remain alone with his own thoughts. And yet, whenever he remembered this
look, always he remembered too that the lad's jaw had closed obstinately,
as though upon a resolve long in making but made at last.

But as the three stood there a soft whistle sounded from the bushes across
the gully, and Jim Burdon pushed a ghostly face into the penumbra.

"Is that you, sir? Then we'll have them for sure."

"Who is it, Jim?"

"Hannaford and that long-legged boy of his. Macklin's up a-top keeping
watch, sir. I've winged one of 'em; can't be sure which. If you and his
Reverence--"

Jim paused suddenly, with his eyes on the half-lit figure of Walter a
Cleeve, recognising him not only as his young master, supposed to be in
France, but as the stranger he had seen that afternoon talking with
Hannaford. For Walter had changed only his sabots.

The Squire saw and interpreted his dismay. "Go on, man," he said
hoarsely; "it's no ghost."

Jim's face cleared. "Your servant, Mr. Walter! A rum mistake I made
then, this afternoon; but it's all right as things turn out. They're both
hereabout, sir, somewheres on the face of the rock, and the one of 'em
hurt, I reckon. Macklin'll keep the top: there's no way off the west
side; and if you and his Reverence'll work up along the gully here while I
try up the face, we'll have the pair for a certainty. Better douse the
light though; I've a bull's-eye here that'll search every foot of the way,
and they haven't a gun."

"That's right enough," the Squire answered; "but it's foolishness to douse
the light. We'll set it up on the stones here at the mouth of the gully
while Walter and I work up to the left of the gully and you up the rock.
It will light up their only bolt-hole; and if you, Father Halloran, will
keep an eye on it from the bushes here you will have light enough to see
their faces to swear b