At all events, any way that Vara thought about it, there was little doubt that Cleg was in imminent peril of his life. For if he refused to give up the treasures of the General, his father would certainly kill him. And if he were frightened or tortured into telling, then no one would believe anything else than that he had been sent by his father to worm himself into the confidence of the mad General and so open the house to the robber. Vara meditated what she should do. Could she get to the house of Barnbogle before Tim Kelly, she might be able to put Cleg on his guard. But a curious something, more disabling than fear, kept her chained to the spot. "The thing is easy as throat-slitting," said Tim emphatically. "I tell you the lad has the keys; for I know he can let himself out and in at his pleasure. Now, he shall give up the keys willingly, or I know a way to make him. If the mad ould General comes in the road, I have that in my pocket which will settle him dead for life. But I hear he's off again on his thundering rounds, restless devil that he is!" "But how," said Sal Kavannah, "is the like o' me to hold the boy? He will be as strong as a young bullock by now." "He'll be wake—wake as pump-water—when I get him in them hands," whispered Timothy Kelly, so that the listener barely heard him. But Vara could see his narrow, weasel face thrust forward and hear the hateful jar in his voice. "God's truth!" he said, "do I not owe him wan? See them holes?" he cried more loudly, his hate mastering him, "pockmarks ye could lose sixpence in. 'Twas the whelp that did that to me! Ah! a fine man was Tim Kelly before that sorra came into the world." "Vara! Vara!" cried suddenly a shrill voice behind the listening girl, as she stood with her brow down on the window-sill. Her heart leaped with wild terror; for it was the voice of little Gavin, come out to seek her, and she feared that he would suddenly appear at the door of the house on the bog. He had a curious faculty for following his sister and finding her. Ever since she came back from Loch Spellanderie he had not cared to let her out of his sight. "Vara! Vara!" the shrill childish voice came again. She could hear Gavin coming nearer, pushing his way through the crackling copsewood. The wrangling voices within stilled themselves. The tell-tale light went out at the crack in the board, and Vara knew that the wild beasts inside would be after her in a moment. If she could only silence Gavin, she thought. She rose to her feet and dashed towards him. "Vara! Vara!" rose the child's voice, clear on the frost-bitten air; "where are ye, Vara?"