"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