ented all thought of further investigation of
the Black Lynn pool.

The next morning was brilliant after the storm, and naturally suggested
an expedition.

'Let's go for a walk right across the moors,' said Sandie to me; 'the
other two want to work, but I've turned restless.'

I agreed at once, for I was restless also in disappointment of our
errand. We ordered sandwiches, obtained leave from 'the Dean,' and
prepared to start off at once.

'Don't fret if we don't get back to-night,' cried Sandie, the
'second-sighted,' to our tutor as we departed; 'we may get lost, Ted may
break down under his weight of learning, or one of Saint Cuthbert's
Cross Fell fiends may "lift" him.'

We wanted to get as far as Brough under Stanemoor, and back by the great
'Nick,' and then athwart Cross Fell's desolate moor, but we had not
taken the weather into our consideration, nor thought of possible
sopping peat-hags on our return journey.

Thus when we had toiled up 'the Nick' by a narrow path from Brough to
the wild moorland we found our track across the waste very difficult to
follow. By six o'clock the clouds had gathered black above us, and
another thunderstorm grew imminent.

Suddenly the lightning flared through the serrated gloom, and thunder
reverberated over the heather.

The rain descended javelin-like upon us as we struggled through the
heavy peat-hags; we lost our bearings and determined to make for any
light that we might descry in lonely farm or shepherd's sheil on this
forsaken waste. We had almost given up hope when we saw a faint glimmer
through the increasing gloom three-quarters of a mile away, perhaps, on
our left hand.

We made for our beacon as straightly as we could; then in a dip we lost
sight of it, but eventually succeeded in discovering it again, and
judged the light to proceed from the window of a small farm, as indeed
proved to be the case when we had traversed another mile of broken
moorland.

After knocking on the door repeatedly, we heard some one moving within.
We went up to the window, and asked for shelter from the storm, as we
were strangers who had lost our way.

The door slowly opened, and a man bearing a tallow dip in a battered
sconce showed himself in the entry.

'We've little accommodation here the night,' he said, as he looked at us
somewhat suspiciously; 'the goodman has died and lies steekit in his
coffin, but ye can come in for shelter if ye have a mind.'

This did not sound ver