against
ourselves. One thing, we know when and where to expect her, and the
captain will steer inshore after passing Newnham, because of the deeper
channel being this side. I don't think we shall miss her."

Father Jerome utilized the minutes in slipping from man to man and
giving each a fixed duty to perform the moment the _Luath_ should come
to anchor under the bank. He seemed to have forgotten nothing; ropes
were ready for the tying up of the vessel and the hauling ashore of the
cargo in cradles that the skipper would have aboard with him. The
horses from the city were designed for duty as pack-horses, by means of
which combustibles would be conveyed to divers parts of the forest and
hidden whilst the darkness lasted. Finally, the boat that had brought
Father Jerome and the contingent from the Arlingham side would drift
down-stream on the ebb with materials for giving the fire a good start
round Awre and Blakeney.

"Ha!"--the exclamation came in a strained whisper from a dozen throats.
A black shape loomed up out of the darkness, and was recognized by more
than one for the _Luath_. The ship swung towards the cliff, and the
men stood ready to drop the anchor. There was a soft call of "Ahoy!"

"Ahoy!" answered Basil. In an instant every conspirator was alert and
afoot. Father Jerome rubbed his hands with undisguised glee, and
Andrew Windybank felt a great weight drop from his heart. He had now
no doubt of success for the night's venture. The _Luath_ was safe and
to time, and many hours of darkness were yet before them. He had not
expected that things would go so smoothly. He saw visions of satisfied
revenge dancing before him like "Jack-o'-lanthorns." His spirits were
of that sort that are easily elated or depressed. Now they bounded up
like a liberated balloon.

But another black shape crept up-stream--a small black shape. And from
this came, not a faint call, but a rousing shout of:--

"St. George and the Heart of Oak!"

Chapter XIII.

A DOUBLE FIGHT.

The fierce, challenging shout from the river seemed to split the thick
darkness as a wedge might split a tree. For a few seconds only was
there a following silence, in which the conspirators stood rooted in
astonishment; then from the very hedge that fringed the river-path came
another cry, "The Dragon and the Lion!" The veriest fool that hung
round Father Jerome knew that these cries could be naught but answering
signals. They were tr