The Uamh coilich na glaodhaich was only a few yards distant; but the entrance to it was concealed by a huge mass—a perpendicular pinnacle—of rock; and when Calum had got behind this gigantic natural screen, there were no more cheerful stars to guide him; he was confronted by darkness and unknown terrors. And yet he scrupulously obeyed his instructions. His trembling fingers, it is true, grasped the pistol, but he kept it in his pocket nevertheless; while with his left hand he groped his way well into the cave—dreading at every moment to see two fiery eyes glaring on him—before he set to work to light the candles. And how feeble and ineffectual were the small red flames in this vast cavern! Their flickering hardly showed the roof at all; but it was not the roof that Calum was regarding; it was the far-reaching and black abyss in front of him, that led—whither? Perhaps the inhabitants of that other world could see better than himself, and were now regarding him?—that other world in which the dawn began in the middle of the night, and where there were cocks crowing when all the natural universe was asleep. He had to fasten each lighted candle into the neck of a bottle that had been left there for the purpose; but all the while he did so he was staring into that vague and awful space that the feeble, dull red glow did not seem to penetrate at all—staring into it as if he expected to find two white eyes and a ghastly countenance suddenly become visible. And then again, when he had placed the bottles on a shelf of rock that ran along one side of the cave, a few feet from the ground, he did not instantly turn and go. He retreated backward—cautiously, for the shelving shingle was loose and slippery—keeping his face towards that hollow darkness, so that he might guard himself against any strange thing, or be warned by hearing any strange noise. Then a colder stirring of air told him that he was outside; he made his way past the over-looming rock and into the clear star-light again; and with a beating heart—but a thankful heart withal—he went quickly along the beach and rejoined his companions. By this time the kegs had been all got out; so that in case of any sudden danger, of which they appeared to have but little dread, the three of them could have jumped into one of the boats and made off. There remained, therefore, only the task of carrying along the casks and stowing them in the cave; and this work young Ross left to the two men. He remained on watch—if watch were needed—pacing up and down the shingle, looking at the far resplendent heavens and the darker sea, and listening to the continuous murmur of the distant surf. He had lit his pipe, too; he did not seem to have much apprehension of being interfered with. And indeed all went well; and in due course of time the two dark figures came along the beach with the intelligence that all the kegs had been safely stowed, and that they were now ready to row the master back to his own home.