Peter was troubled by the grimness that settled in his master's
face. They waited for dusk, and when deep shadows had gathered in
the valley McKay led the way out of the rock-pile.

An hour later they came cautiously through the darkness that lay
between the broken shoulders of Cragg's Ridge. There was a light
in the cabin, but Nada's window was dark. Peter crouched down
under the warning pressure of McKay's hand.

"I'll go on alone," he said. "You stay here."

It seemed a long time that he waited in the darkness. He could not
hear the low tap, tap, tap of his master's fingers against the
glass of Nada's darkened window. And Jolly Roger, in response to
that signal-tapping, heard nothing from within, except a monotone
of voice that came from the outer room. For half an hour he
waited, repeating the signals at intervals. At last a door opened,
and Nada stood silhouetted against the light of the room beyond.

McKay tapped again, very lightly, and the door closed quickly
behind the girl. In a moment she was at the window, which was
raised a little from the bottom.

"Mister--Roger--" she whispered. "Is it--YOU?"

"Yes," he said, finding a little hand in the darkness. "It's me."

The hand was cold, and its fingers clung tightly to his, as if the
girl was frightened. Peter, restless with waiting, had come up