He suspected that on such a morning of storm even Mad Micky might possibly refuse to pilot human cargo across the rough water, for New Year's Eve outvied the previous days of tempest. The boat, moored at the Castle Stewart end of Slaneyford Lough, lay in sight of the roaring sea, whose billows broke upon innumerable creeks made alive by the hurrying presence of foam-crested waves. Hal had collected all the money he possessed in his small pockets--silver for Miss Cairn, and three big pennies for Mad Micky when the moment should arrive to reveal his hidden presence. No wonder the boy's heart beat furiously, for of all his life's adventures this appeared the most thrilling and terrifying. It was one thing to play at shipwrecked mariners and to storm castles in which no ogres dwelt--it proved a different matter to lie calmly concealed while Micky, who "had set his mind on a watery grave," let his frail barque tear across the Lough under a single head-sail. The boy knew enough of the treacherous current and the strength of the tide to realize fully the perils of his passage. Peeping from under his covering he could see the reckless face of his unconscious guide, fully aware that no man valuing his safety would sail as Mad Micky sailed that morning. [Illustration: "HE COULD SEE THE RECKLESS FACE OF HIS UNCONSCIOUS GUIDE."] The child's sensitive nature would have been tortured by fears but for the encouraging influence of a great unselfish love. "It's for mother's sake!" he said, hiding his eyes from the swift, deep body of water, whipped into fury by the wind as it viciously lashed the sail. "It's for mother's sake!" he repeated, when the personal discomfort of his position warned him there can be few places wetter or more cheerless than a small boat unprotected from the elements when the rain descends in really gross solidity. * * * * * Mrs. Court felt none the worse for her journey as she drove to Castle Stewart late that afternoon. She was really rather amused at having flung caution to the winds, and was by no means depressed at landing in a hurricane of squall and dirt on the dear, familiar Irish shore. Her first thought was for Hal as she crossed the threshold of her old home, and a sudden keen misgiving pierced her like a knife when faces of frightened distress greeted her on the doorstep. "Where is Hal?" The words broke sharply; the bright, magnificent eyes flashed a glance of terror from right to left. "We don't know!" The answer came unsteadily from faltering lips. "He disappeared this morning; he was last seen by one of the gardeners, running towards the Lough, slipping over the slimy stones and rocks. The man wondered we allowed him out in the wet to play on the weedy boulders, but the foolish fellow said nothing till it was too late. When he heard Hal was missing he spoke, but not till then. The shore has been searched, but----"