er a black bristly lip turned up wickedly at the corners.

"But this will not always last, lad," Stair Garland went on, "the wars
will blow over and they will have men and troops to stop all this open
cargo-running. Then they will never beat us altogether, and for years
and years they will have the upper hand in their turn. What will come of
you and me then, Whitefoot? We shall have to foot it, far afield, lad.
Fergus will have the farm when my father has done with it. Agnew takes
to books and will get learning. But the 'fechtin' fool' must still be
the fechtin' fool. And there is no outgate for him except what he can
make with his two hands.

"What has he to do with falling in love, Whitefoot?--Answer me that,
silly dog, instead of lickin' and slaverin' all over my hand! Can he
marry? No. Would he take any woman into this life of straits and hidings
and ambushes? No! And yet what a fool he is because Patsy (oh,
Whitefoot, our little Patsy!) being a laird's only daughter, goes for a
while with her own kind as she must at the last. What a fool you have
for a master, Whitefoot! Tell him so!"

"_Ow-oww-ouch!_" The dog's answer came in a kind of furious shout that
was at once a defiance of fate, of the dread Power which deprived
masters of their heart's desire and dogs of speech, shutting them both
in within the narrow bounds of a hard necessity.

Stair soothed the dog with one hand, for he could hear his heart thump
in short laboured leaps as if after a long pursuit of a dog-fox on the
hillside.

"It is all no use, Whitefoot," he went on, more gently, "but after all
you are a friend, and it does me good to talk to you. You are always on
my side, and I do believe that you understand better than any one else.
But now the moon is up we must be going down to the Cave of Slains, or
perhaps the Calaman. Stand up, Whitefoot, and say good-night to Patsy
before she goes to bed."

Stair rose bareheaded on his rock and looked towards the head of the
long bare glen, above which he could see the grey towers of Castle
Raincy touched to silver by the moonlight. Some windows were still
illuminated on the ground-floor, but higher up only one held a light.

Stair waved his hand towards it.

"Come on now," he said encouragingly to Whitefoot. "Speak--give it
tongue! Say good-night to Patsy. She will never know."

And along with his master's shout there went out towards that single
light high on the side of the castle wall, the dog's