urricane voice; and they turned and bent to their
task again.

Nearing the summit, the Master turned once more.

"There it was again!" he called; but his words were swept away on the
storm; and they buckled to the struggle afresh.

Ever and anon the moon gleamed down through the riot of tossing sky.
Then they could see the wet wall above them, with the water tumbling
down its sheer face; and far below, in the roaring gutter of the Pass a
brown-stained torrent. Hardly, however, had they time to glance around
when a mass of cloud would hurry jealously up, and all again was
blackness and noise.

At length, nigh spent, they topped the last and steepest pitch of the
Pass, and emerged into the Devil's Bowl. There, overcome with their
exertions, they flung themselves on to the soaking ground to draw
breath.

Behind them, the wind rushed with a sullen roar up the funnel of the
Pass. It screamed above them as though ten million devils were a-horse;
and blurted out on to the wild Marches beyond.

As they lay there, still panting, the moon gleamed down in momentary
graciousness. In front, through the lashing rain, they could discern the
hillocks that squat, hag-like, round the Devil's Bowl; and lying in its
bosom, its white waters, usually so still, ploughed now into a thousand
furrows, the Lone Tarn.

The Master raised his head and craned forward at the ghostly scene. Of
a sudden he reared himself on to his arms, and stayed motionless awhile.
Then he dropped as though dead, forcing down Andrew with an iron hand.

"Lad, did'st see?" he whispered.

"Nay; what was't?" the boy replied, roused by his father's tone.

"There!"

But as the Master pointed forward, a blur of cloud intervened and all
was dark. Quickly it passed; and again the lantern of the night shone
down. And Andrew, looking with all his eyes, saw indeed.

There, in front, by the fretting waters of the Tarn, packed in a solid
phalanx, with every head turned in the same direction, was a flock of
sheep. They were motionless, all-intent, staring with horror-bulging
eyes. A column of steam rose from their bodies into the rain-pierced
air. Panting and palpitating, yet they stood with their backs to the
water, as though determined to sell their lives dearly. Beyond them,
not fifty yards away, crouched a humpbacked boulder, casting a long,
misshapen shadow in the moonlight. And beneath it were two black
objects, one still struggling feebly.

"The Killer!" gaspe