"How can I tell?" was the answer. "Perhaps I have said too much. But what I have said to you, that is the least part of what happened to me that night, for it is not to be spoken of." And then he rose; and put his pipe in his pocket. "Come, Calum, my son, we must take the boat ashore now, for the master will be coming down to the slip. But do not you speak of such things as I have told you; for it is not good to speak of them." And to this Calum merely replied— "What the master wishes is enough for you and me, Coinneach; but I would rather not be going into the Uamh coilich na glaodhaich this night." They rowed the boat in to the shore—they could see their way well enough, for now the heavens were quite clear, and a universe of white worlds was shining down on them; and there they ran her bow into the soft seaweed by the side of the slip. They had not long to wait. There was a sound of footsteps on the gravel-path; then from out of the shadow emerged a figure into the open space above the beach; they knew who this was. Young Ross of Heimra seemed to be in no great hurry; his hands were in his pockets; he came down towards the boat with long, lounging, leisurely strides; and he was whistling a gay air that was unfamiliar to them—for Coinneach and Calum could hardly be expected to recognise ’_La Noce de Jeanne_.’ "It is the master who is not afraid of anything," said the elder of the two men, under his breath. "Indeed you may say that," rejoined Calum, as he, too, put his pipe in his pocket. "I think he would face old Donas[#] himself, and not ask for any allowance." [#] _Donas_—the Devil. Young Ross came down the beach. "Lend a hand here, lads," he sung out, "and we’ll take the other boat with us. Maybe we’ll be able to do it in one trip; and I’m sure it’s a good long sleep both of you will be wanting this night."