of the sand-hills, by the fugitives from the camps in the
hollows of the Wild, who had been driven out by the invading waters of
the dam constructed by the Garland brothers and their followers.

Julian Wemyss gazed a little stupidly. His eyes were unaccustomed to the
dark, and he blinked like one who finds a difficulty in believing the
evidence of his senses.

"Are these really fires?" he asked, covering his eyes with his hand.

Stair softly shut the door behind the two of them. It would not now
matter whether the spy were asleep or awake.

"Now do you understand?" he said softly.

"They are fires, and we are surrounded by water. You have let out the
dam!"

Stair sketched his night's adventure, with his hand on Whitefoot's head,
who sat staring out at the winking fires gravely and wisely, as one who
knew all about it and would have a great deal to say to the matter
before all was done.

"Ah," said Julian Wemyss, "this is no chance business. They have been
preparing it with the long hand. But why did they not charge from all
sides at once and so rush the Bothy?"

"They could not," said Stair simply, "of course there were three easy
paths then where there is only one very difficult one now. But, you see,
they did not know that. They did not know and they do not know the
strength of our garrison, or how soon we hope to be reinforced."

"I suppose," Julian whispered, "you have every confidence--?" And he
indicated the ulterior of the Bothy where the ex-spy was sleeping.

"No," murmured Stair, "but I shall be sure to-morrow as soon as the sun
is up. Possible treachery within the camp is not the sort of thing one
can afford to let drag!"

"Provisions?" queried Julian.

"For a year!" said Stair.

"Water?"

"As you see!" And he swept his arm largely round the circle of the Wild.
"We shall make a filter with a little granite sand (silver sand they
call it). After passing it two or three times through this, the peat
water will be fairly palatable. At least we shall need to put up with
it!" And then Stair communicated to his fellow-prisoner his idea of the
defence of the Bothy.

"We do not want to kill any of these men who have been ordered to come
and starve us out," he said. "You have your house and your position. It
is true that you have killed Lord Wargrove, but if he had not been a
friend of the Regent and a confidant of Lyonesse, you might have walked
the streets of London after a month or so, and no man