It was too late to wander into the mountains. Darby took a road which wound up to a little group of houses, and then back again to the coast, with the pack lumbering along quite placidly and the four whippers-in all repeating names behind them.
All save Gheena. Sundry visits to the meets of the foot dogs had made her familiar with most of the pack.
The Commander-in-Chief, somewhat exhausted by his burst, was now forging noisily, clicking his flat feet together fiercely, and varying this by an occasional stumble.
"Did you really think Mr. Keefe meant the Germans were coming?" Gheena found Basil Stafford riding beside her.
"And if he had meant it," he said, with a thrill in his voice. "It's a big sea to guard, Miss Freyne. Lord, if he had meant it! Spiked helmets marching along this road—oh, with their owners, if you like it, and everything seized! Promise me if they ever do come you'll run away inland," he said. "They won't go off the railway lines."
"How could they come?" Gheena looked out to sea. "You don't think they mean to try?"
"I know"—he checked himself—"I know—that it may be possible for them to try."
"I shall ride away Whitebird and lead Redbird, and lead Bluebird, and take all the dogs," said Gheena firmly.
Save for the chasing of a blameless cat, the pack got home in chastened mood, greatly depressed by an aimless promenade. George Freyne's car was at Darby's gate, and a suggestion of bed at Castle Freyne was well received.
"Keefe can lead Gheena's horse, he won't want to hurry, and Stafford can take mine, Darby, and we'll drive. Matilda may have been worried by Phil about Keefe's nonsense."