was but the noise of some rat behind the wainscot that
had come for shelter into the warm house; but the loud knocking
came again. I hurriedly drew on some clothes and opened the outer
door. A wild gust of wind and snow swished in upon me, and in the
deep snow outside there stood a woman holding a lighted lantern.

"Please d'ye ken anything about Thora Kinlay?" said she; and I
recognized Ann, the servant woman of Crua Breck.

"Anything about Thora?" I asked, surprised at the inquiry. "Why,
Ann, what's gone wrong wi' her?"

"We're feared she's lost," said the woman. "She went outby in the
forenoon, and she hasna come back yet."

"Did she not say where she was going to?" I asked.

"No; and we've heard nothing o' her. We canna think what can hae
come ower her."

"But where are Carver and Tom, and the boat's crew?" I asked. "Have
they not been out seeking for the lass?"

"No; they're all away in the St. Magnus; and the mistress is ill in
her bed. The shepherd and me has been seekin' Thora all the night,
and I've come to Lyndardy, thinkin' ye might hae seen her
yestreen."

"No; I havena seen Thora these nine or ten weeks past," I said.
"But if she be out in this storm she must be looked for; so bide
here a wee, Ann, and I'll come out and help ye."

I thereupon hastened within for my sea boots and oilskins. I had
next to procure a lantern from the byre; and this was somewhat
difficult, for the snow had drifted in a high bank against the
door, and I had to remove it before I could effect an entrance.
Lighting the lantern, and taking down my long staff, I noticed that
my climbing lines had been taken from the peg where they usually
hung. My gun, too, was amissing. No one but myself had any use for
either the ropes or the gun, and I thought it curious that they
were removed; but at the moment I did not concern myself about so
apparently trivial a circumstance.

I soon rejoined the woman, and with her I made diligent search for
Thora. Backward and forward we tramped for many weary miles in the
wind and snow. We went by every road and footpath that we knew, yet
not even a footmark but our own could we find.

I questioned Ann and the shepherd, who had joined us, as to where
they had searched before I came out. The shepherd had been to a
cottage where lived an old woman named Mary Firth, but Mary was not
at home, and there was no one in the cottage--no trace of Thora.

"Has either o' ye been across at Jack Paterson's