elcome was the small red ray that told of the shepherd's
cottage just below the juncture of the Geinig and Aivron. It was a
cheerful beacon; it spoke of human association and companionship; the
moan of the hurrying Aivron seemed to have less of boding in it now. It
is true they still had the two fords to encounter, and another long and
weary tramp, before they got back to the lodge; but here at least was
some assurance that they were out of those storm-haunted solitudes where
the night was now holding high revel. That ray of light streaming from
the solitary little window seemed to Lionel a blessed thing; it served
to dissipate the horrors of this murmuring and threatening blackness all
around him; it cheered and warmed his heart; it was a joyful assurance
that they were on the right way for home. When they reached the cottage,
they knocked at the door; and presently there was a delightful, ruddy
glow in the midst of the dark. Would the gentleman not come in and warm
himself at the fire and get his clothes dried? No: Lionel said that
getting wet through once was better than getting wet through twice; he
would go on as he was. But might he have a glass of milk? The shepherd
disappeared, and returned with a tumbler of milk and a piece of oatcake;
and never in his life had the famous baritone from the far city of
London tasted anything sweeter, for he was half-dead with hunger.
Greatly refreshed by this opportune bit and sup, the tired and "droukit"
rider cheerfully resumed his way; and it was with a stout heart that,
after a certain time, he found Roderick cautiously leading the pony down
to the water's edge. And then a sudden thought struck him.

"Look here, Roderick," said he, "I suppose I can get across this ford
safely enough; but how on earth am I to know when I get to the next one?
I can't see a yard in front of the pony's head."

"I'm coming with ye, sir," was the simple answer; and at the same moment
there was a general splashing which told him that both Maggie and the
tall keeper were in the rushing stream.

"Well, I suppose you can't be wetter than you are," he said.

"Indeed, that's true," Roderick answered, with much composure.

Now this first ford, though a ticklish thing in the pitch darkness, they
managed successfully enough; but the next one proved a terrible
business. Roderick went by the pony's head, with his hand on the bridle;
but whether he helped Maggie, or whether Maggie helped him, it would be