“Yes, you could,” said Wally, appearing suddenly. “Little girls who won’t eat dinner can’t light bonfires!” He tucked her hand into his arm and raced her down the staircase. At the foot, he stopped. “Norah, I’m sorry,” he said. “Is it all right?” “Of course it’s all right,” said Norah. “But you were never cross with me before, in all your life, and don’t you do it again!” “I never got you mixed up in a war before!” said Wally soberly. “Don’t you do it again, either!” CHAPTER XV PLANS OF CAMPAIGN “They are fighting in the heavens: they’re at war beneath the sea— Ay, their ways are mighty different from the ways o’ you an’ me!” DUDLEY CLARK. DINNER at the Carrignarone Hotel, where the Australians and Sir John were the only guests, was apt to be a lengthy and hilarious affair, with everybody very hungry and very merry, and with jokes flying, much to the disorganization of the waitress, who was wont to spend much of her time in clapping her hand over her mouth and rushing from the room. When the necessities of the meal forbade these hasty retreats, the waitress was apt to explode in short, sharp gasps, greatly endangering whatever dish she happened to be handing. This evening, however, the younger members of the party were inclined to be unusually silent. Mr. Linton’s vacant seat was in itself depressing; and since it was impossible to talk of the subject seething in their minds, conversation of any kind was not easy. But John O’Neill was like a child; and before long they all fell under the spell of his merriment. Never had they seen him in such a happy mood. Every line was smoothed from his worn face, and his eyes danced with an eager joy that was almost uncanny. All his being seemed transformed in the complete contentment that had possession of him. Deliberately he set himself to make the others laugh; and succeeded so well that they astonished themselves by making an extremely good dinner and feeling, at its conclusion, considerably reinforced for the work that lay before them. O’Neill led the way out to the little landing-stage near the inn, where the fishing-boats were anchored, their brown nets drying on rough fences on the beach. They sat down on some upturned fish-boxes, looking westward across the water, where the sun was preparing to set in a glory of golden cloud. “Now I’m going to be sensible,” Sir John said. “I’ve been thinking out a plan of campaign, and I want your views.” He brought out from his pocket a plan of the inlet, drawn by Jim—a companion to the one Mr. Linton had carried to Captain Aylwin. “You have ‘Flat Rock’ marked here over the cave,” he said. “Is that the rock you were sitting on when Wally dropped his knife?” “Yes, that’s the one,” Jim answered. “It has a cleft in it through which the knife went down—just wide enough to admit the knife. It’s really a kind of lid over the rocks that form the first cave.”