They remained out of doors a little longer, discussing the situation, while the red turned to grey beyond the far-off islands; then they went indoors to make preparations for the night. Fresh peats were cast on the fire, and the stores of cut heather were brought out and laid on the floor to serve as beds. Marjorie lighted the lamp which hung from the ceiling, and its smoky glare lighted up a circle of eager, wakeful faces. The novelty of their surroundings, together with the voice of the current, which was running deep and swift round their tiny strip of an island, took from them all disposition to sleep during the early part of the night. It was not until the lamp had burnt out, and Tricksy's head had sunk heavily against Marjorie's knee that the rushing became fainter and finally died away, and one by one the listeners dropped to sleep upon their heather couches. It was about midnight when Marjorie awoke, aroused by a slight noise, and the flames from the peats showed her Allan staring in front of him with wakeful eyes, and listening. 'What is it?' she asked. 'Hush, don't wake the others. There it is again--now, hark.' Marjorie listened, and in the calm night she distinctly heard the grating of oars in rowlocks and the sound of a boat's bows dividing the water. 'It's some one coming for us,' she said. 'No, for they would have called out before they got so near.' Marjorie jumped into a sitting posture and her eyes gleamed. 'What if it should be the smugglers?' she suggested. She was not frightened, only excited, for the situation promised some adventure. 'It's more likely to be Neil,' said Allan. 'He comes here sometimes. Let's go out and see, but tread softly and don't disturb the youngsters.' They threaded their way cautiously among the sleepers, shivering a little with the chilliness of the air and with excitement, and stood out of doors in the cool quiet night. 'Crouch down, Marjorie, and keep behind the dyke,' said Allan. 'Let's make certain that it _is_ Neil before we show ourselves.' By this time the boat was close to the shore, and its occupant sprang out. The cloudy moonlight showed the face and figure to be those of Neil. 'Stand up, Marjorie; let him see it's a girl,' said Allan, 'and he'll know that he's safe.' Marjorie stood up, and called 'Neil! Hist! Neil!' The figure turned round. 'Who is that?' asked a voice in Gaelic. 'It's Marjorie, Neil; and Allan.' Neil carefully secured the boat and came forward. 'What are you doing here, Miss Marjorie, at this time of night? and Allan too? Has anything happened?' 'We're shipwrecked, Neil; or rather we've been cut off by the tide-way,' said Marjorie. 'The others are here,' said Allan, 'in the cottage; you're quite safe. Come along.' They entered very softly, Neil dragging his limbs as though he were fatigued. 'What's the row?' inquired Reggie, opening his eyes.