"There is something in that," said Blane. "But at any rate, though
it be summer, you can never sleep there to-night."

"The girls cannot," said Stead, "but I shall, to look after things."

These were long days, and by the evening many of the remnants of
household stuff had been brought, the cows and Whitefoot had been
tied up in their dilapidated shed, with all the hay Stead could
gather together to make them feel at home. There was a hollow under
the rock where he hoped to keep the pigs, but neither they nor the
sheep could be brought in at present. They must take their chance,
the sheep on the moor, the pigs grubbing about the ruins of the
farmyard. The soldiers must be too busy for marauding, to judge by
the constant firing that had gone on all day, the sharp rattle of the
musquets, and now and then the grave roll of a cannon.

Stead had been too busy to attend, but half the village had been
watching from the height, which accounted perhaps for the move from
the farm having been so uninterrupted after the first.

It was not yet dark, when, tired out by his day's hard work, Stead
sat himself down at the opening of his hut with Toby by his side.
The evening gold of the sky could hardly be seen through the hazel
and mountain-ash bushes that clothed the steep opposite bank of the
glen and gave him a feeling of security. The brook rippled along
below, plainly to be heard since all other sounds had ceased except
the purring of a night-jar and the cows chewing their cud. There was
a little green glade of short grass sloping down to the stream from
the hut where the rabbits were at play, but on each side the trees