d the boy, and, all ablaze with excitement, began
forging forward.

"Steady, lad, steady!" urged his father, dropping a restraining hand on
the boy's shoulder.

Above them a huddle of clouds flung in furious rout across the night,
and the moon was veiled.

"Follow, lad!" ordered the Master, and began to crawl silently forward.
As stealthily Andrew pursued. And over the sodden ground they crept, one
behind the other, like two' night-hawks on some foul errand.

On they crawled, lying prone during the blinks of moon, stealing forward
in the dark; till, at length, the swish of the rain on the waters of the
Tarn, and the sobbing of the flock in front, warned them they were near.

They skirted the trembling pack, passing so close as to brush against
the flanking sheep; and yet unnoticed, for the sheep were soul-absorbed
in the tragedy in front. Only, when the moon was in, Andrew could hear
them huddling and stamping in the darkness. And again, as it shone out,
fearfully they edged closer to watch the bloody play.

Along the Tarn edge the two crept. And still the gracious moon hid their
approach, and the drunken wind drowned with its revelry the sound of
their coming.

So they stole on, on hands and knees, with hearts aghast and fluttering
breath; until, of a sudden, in a lull of wind, they could hear, right
before them, the smack and slobber of bloody lips, chewing their bloody
meal.

"Say thy prayers, Red Wull. Thy last minute's come!" muttered the
Master, rising to his knees. Then, in Andrew's ear: "When I rush, lad,
follow!" For he thought, when the moon rose, to jump in on the great
dog, and, surprising him as he lay gorged and unsuspicious, to deal him
one terrible swashing blow, and end forever the lawless doings of the
Tailless Tyke.

The moon flung off its veil of cloud. White and cold, it stared down
into the Devil's Bowl; on murderer and murdered.

Within a hand's cast of the avengers of blood humped the black boulder.
On the border of its shadow lay a dead sheep; and standing beside the
body, his coat all ruffled by the hand of the storm--Owd Bob--Owd Bob o'
Kenmuir.

Then the light went in, and darkness covered the land.

Chapter XXIX THE DEVIL'S BOWL

IT was Owd Bob. There could be no mistaking. In the wide world there
was but one Owd Bob o' Kenmuir. The silver moon gleamed down on the dark
head and rough gray coat, and lit the white escutcheon on his chest.

And in the darkness James Mo