"Never mind, now, Danny. Do you pull down to the Lockjaw; run ashore there; climb the brow above, and wait." "Wait?--why--until when?" "Danny, from the head of the Lockjaw you can see the light on the end of the pier. I've been there myself and know you can. Keep your eye fixed on that light." "Yes, yes; well, well?" "The moment you see the light go down on the pier--no matter when--no matter what else has happened--do you that instant set fire to the gorse about you. Fire it here, there, everywhere, as if it were the night of May-day." "Yes; what then?" "Then creep down to the shore and wait again." "What will happen, Mona?" "This--Kisseck and the men with him will see your light over the Lockjaw, and guess that it is a signal of danger. If they have half wit they'll know that it must be meant for them. Then they'll jump into their boat and pull down to you." "When they come, what am I to say?" "Say that the police from Castle Rushen are after them; that four are cut off in the castle, and four more are on the Horse Hill above Contrary. Tell them to get back, every man of them, to Kisseck's house as fast as their legs will carry them." Danny's intelligence might be sluggish at ordinary moments, but to-night it was suddenly charged with a ready man's swiftness and insight. "But the Castle Rushen men on the Horse Hill will see the burning gorse," he said. "True--ah, yes, Danny, that's tr--. I have it! I have it!" exclaimed the girl. "There are two paths from the Lockjaw to Kisseck's house. I walked both of them with Ruby, yesterday. One goes above the open shaft of the old lead mine, the other below it. Tell the men to take the low road--the _low_ road; be _sure_ you say the low road--and if the police see your fire I'll send them along the high road, and so they will pass with a cliff between them. That's it, thank God. You understand me, Danny? Are you quite sure you understand everything--every little thing?" "Yes, I do," said the lad, with the energy of a man. "When they get to Kisseck's cottage let them smoke, drink, gamble, swear--anything--to make believe they have never been out to-night. You know what I mean?" "I do," repeated the lad. He was a new being. His former self seemed in that hour to drop from him like a garment. Mona looked at him in the dim light shot through the window from the fire, and for an instant her heart smote her. What was she doing with this lad? What was he doing for her? Love was her pole-star. What was his? Only the blank self-abandonment of despair. For love of Christian she was risking all this. But the wild force that inspired the heart of this simple lad was love for her who loved another. Whose was the nobler part, hers who hoped all, or his who hoped nothing? In the darkness she felt her face flush deep. Oh, what a great little heart was here--here, in this outcast boy; this neglected, down-trodden, despised, and rejected, poor, pitiful waif of humanity.