hedge of laurels, and fixed itself in the neighbourhood of a distant
garden-seat. Then at once she stiffened like a cat that has heard a
mouse squeak or a bird's wing rustle; she was alert on the
instant, concentrated upon the phenomenon. Instinct recognised the tip
of a cigar which had the handsome face of Claud Dalzell behind it.

"What is he doing out of doors at this time of night?" she wondered;
and the little star began to draw her like a magnet. The world becomes
another world in these mystic hours; it has new rulers and new laws--
or rather, it has none. The moon sways more than ocean tides. In broad
day Deb would no more have stalked a man than she would a crocodile; in
this soft, free, empty, irresponsible night the primal woman was out of
her husk, one with the desert-prowling animal that calls through the
moonlit silence for its mate. Twenty times had she snubbed an ardent
lover at the behest of all sorts of reasons and so-called instincts
cultivated for her guidance by generations of wise men, now, all in a
moment, came this moon-born impulse to give herself to him unasked. She
could not resist it.

Like Deb, Claud had not been inclined to sleep, and for much the same
reason. The guest chamber usually allotted to him being needed for a
lady, he had been sent to the bachelors' quarters--a barrack-like
dormitory amongst the outbuildings, very useful for the accommodation
of the occasional 'vet' or cattle-buyer, and to take the overflow of
company on festive occasions. Jim Urquhart, when at Redford, always
slept there; he preferred it, particularly when he had companions with
whom to smoke and talk sheep, and perhaps play cards, at liberty; for
the bachelors' quarters had its own wood-stack and supplies, and one
could sit by a blazing hearth all night, if so disposed, without
incommoding anybody.