histle some merry tune to keep up our hearts. Willie
Hercus, though naturally daring, was now especially timid, the
remembrance of that skull he had handled having taken such hold of
his mind that the simple mention of it by one of us was enough to
make his voice sink to a trembling whisper, as though he feared the
dead man might come to life again and appear in our midst to accuse
us of having disturbed his bones.

I think Tom Kinlay was the only one of us who did not look with
superstitious awe into the dark shadows that hung about those
ruined walls and silent tombstones; but he was so tall and strong
that nothing seemed to daunt him, and soon he made a proposal that
went far towards assuring me that he was absolutely fearless.

"Now, lads," said he, when we were passing the low wall of the
burying ground, "let us get in here and spread out our things on
one of those flat stones, and then we can share them out. Come
along; nobody can disturb us in that quiet burying ground."

"What!" exclaimed Robbie, betraying his terror at the proposal.
"Over there among the graves! Not I. I'm not going into such a
place after the sun has gone down. Why, we canna be sure that the
ghosts of the dead will not spring out upon us!"

"No, I'm not going in there either," chimed in Hercus. "We can
divide the siller here on the moor just as well as in that fearsome
place. Come back, Hal, dinna you gang either."

"Well, well, what a pack of frightened bairns ye are!" said Kinlay,
preparing to enter by the open gate. "Come along. What on earth can
ye be feared at?"

Thus taunted for want of courage, Willie and Robbie overcame their
superstitious scruples, and we all four made our way in among the
graves.

We spread our treasures upon the top of a flat tombstone that was
somewhat higher than its neighbours and formed a convenient table
for our purpose. The stone was overgrown with lichens and moss, and
skirted by a growth of nettles and thistles. As we stood around it
in the twilight, surrounded by a wild solitude, we might have been
mistaken for a company of pirates dividing their ill-gotten gains.

Whilst Kinlay and Hercus were opening out the two seals' skins my
eyes idly wandered over the surface of the tombstone, and were
arrested by the inscription carved thereon. There was an epitaph in
some foreign language, old and worn, but under this was a name that
seemed to be newly cut. It was the name "Thora Quendale."

Now the name