"Now, my lads!" cried Gill, just then, "work with a will, plenty to do." He led the way, and the men followed him with a sense of relief out into the bright sunshine, where the ferns fringed the rough arch over the entrance to the hole. They glanced at the heaps of stores and the various shipping chandlery, spare sails and cordage, but all was so familiar that nothing excited their interest. Just as they reached the outside there was a whistle from below, and Gil uttered an impatient ejaculation. But hurrying a little distance down, he peered over a mass of rock, to see one of his men, who had been on sentry, leading a dark figure with bandaged eyes. "Father Brisdone!" said Gil. "Bring him along, my lad." Going forward, he quickly undid the handkerchief and threw it aside. "I forgot to tell them, father," he said, holding out his hand; "there was no need with you." "I do not wish to pry into any of your secrets, my son, that you do not care to trust me with," said Father Brisdone, smiling as he took the young man's hand. "Trust you, father? Why, I'd trust you with anything. But you look weary and hot with your journey. Sit down on yon stone: this is nature's parlour. Here is something to eat. Lockyer, a bottle of that wine from the case inside on the left. The cup too." Leading the father to a nook by the side of the entry, he placed refreshments before him, and then said-- "Now you shall see us lock up the house, for it may be a year before we return." "Why should you show me?" said Father Brisdone, smiling. "Why should I not show the man whom I have always looked upon as a trusty friend?" retorted Gil. "Now, my lads," he said, and, leaving the father's side, he soon had his men busy with spade and shovel. First of all the old stone was reared into its place. Then smaller blocks were thrust in here and there, so as to completely wedge it in. Then shovels of stones were thrown into fissures, and sods of earth, mingled with grass and heather, were carefully arranged; after which broad-fronded ferns, roots of rag-wort, grasses, and bramble roots were planted, dead leaves sprinkled here and there, and touch after touch given till nothing seemed left to be done but to pour water over the new earth to bind it together, and make the plants take root. "There," said Gil to the father, as he stopped by him, hot and panting; "unless some spy has watched our work, that is safe enough, for in a week's time those things will be growing again." "Yes, that will be secure enough," said the father, rising. "Thanks, my son, I was indeed faint for want of food. And now, what next?" "Next, father, you will accompany my man there on board. The little ship lies ready in the river; he will take you down in the skiff. If all's well we shall be with you soon after midnight, and then heaven send us favouring gales, for we shall drop down the river on the tide, and put to sea at once."