r. Heritage that fund this road."

Dickson and his guide squeezed themselves between the nose and the
cliff up a spout of stones, and found themselves in an upper storey of
the gulley, very steep, but practicable even for one who was no
cragsman. This in turn ran out against a wall up which there led only
a narrow chimney. At the foot of this were two of the Die-Hards, and
there were others above, for a rope hung down, by the aid of which a
package was even now ascending.

"That's the top," said Dougal, pointing to the rim of sky, "and that's
the last o' the supplies." Dickson noticed that he spoke in a whisper,
and that all the movements of the Die-Hards were judicious and
stealthy. "Now, it's your turn. Take a good grip o' the rope, and
ye'll find plenty holes for your feet. It's no more than ten yards and
ye're well held above."

Dickson made the attempt and found it easier than he expected. The only
trouble was his pack and waterproof, which had a tendency to catch on
jags of rock. A hand was reached out to him, he was pulled over the
edge, and then pushed down on his face. When he lifted his head Dougal
and the others had joined him, and the whole company of the Die-Hards
was assembled on a patch of grass which was concealed from the landward
view by a thicket of hazels. Another, whom he recognized as Heritage,
was coiling up the rope.

"We'd better get all the stuff into the old Tower for the present,"
Heritage was saying. "It's too risky to move it into the House now.
We'll need the thickest darkness for that, after the moon is down.
Quick, for the beastly thing will be rising soon, and before that we
must all be indoors."

Then he turned to Dickson and gripped his hand. "You're a high class
of sportsman, Dogson. And I think you're just in time."

"Are they due to-night?" Dickson asked in an excited whisper, faint
against the wind.

"I don't know about They. But I've got a notion that some devilish
queer things will happen before to-morrow morning."

CHAPTER IX

THE FIRST BATTLE OF THE CRUIVES

The old keep of Huntingtower stood some three hundred yards from the
edge of the cliffs, a gnarled wood of hazels and oaks protecting it
from the sea-winds. It was still in fair preservation, having till
twenty years before been an adjunct of the house of Dalquharter, and
used as kitchen, buttery, and servants' quarters. There had been
residential wings attached, dating from the mid-eight