im. Heads low, men--ready there to go about.
I never heard of Francis Airie. He is none of ours. Hold on, not so
fast, you Austrian, sight your man before you fire!"

"I see him very well in the dark--shall I let off so he dead be?"

"I am Francis Airie, called the Poor Scholar," said the voice; "Miss
Patsy Ferris knows me, and Mr. Kennedy also!"

"Of course I do," said Patsy, recognizing the voice of the lad who had
helped her with many a hard line of Virgil, and many a passage of
Tacitus, in which the verbs were singularly thin-sown. "Is it safe to
come in where you are, Francis?"

"Quite, Miss Ferris," said the voice. "They have got Stair and Mr.
Wemyss cornered in the Bothy, but they are still holding out. Fergus and
Agnew are away on the cliffs to the north, but they are too closely
watched to venture a signal. So that is why I am here to meet you."

With a long, even glide the boat's keel touched soft sand.

"Steady now, men,--back her a little!" said the mate, who was afraid of
being caught on an ebbing tide, "overboard with you, Lambert, and you
McVane, and help the ladies ashore."

But a pair of strong arms came over the side and grasped Patsy.

"No need," said the Poor Scholar, "I know exactly where to land and--"

"Take Miss Aline first!" commanded Patsy; "think of the pious AEneas you
used to preach to me about."

And she got herself carried ashore by the hirsute giant McVane.

"'Seniores priores' would have been a better quotation," said the
Scholar, as he took up Miss Aline; "take hold of the lapels of my coat,
Miss Aline--your arms not so close about my neck, if you please!"

"I doubt if you would have objected to the arms about your neck if they
had been Patsy's, you and your 'Seniores'!" Miss Aline observed rather
tartly as she was borne off. They were soon all safe in a tiny cove,
their feet on the pleasant wet sand, and the dark undefined shapes of
the crags overhanging them on every side. A moment more and the boat
disappeared into the darkness. A lantern flashed and was answered. They
were free to proceed on their quest. Francis the Scholar led them
carefully above tide-mark, turned at right-angles into a still deeper
darkness, bade them keep their heads low, and with Patsy's hand in his
passed into a cave-shelter, in one corner of which the embers of his
watch-fire still smouldered red. Francis threw a handful of pine-cones
upon the fire. It blazed up instantly with a clear light and a