Dol Beag took down the great Bible. "We will worship the Lord," said he, "before you will be leaving," and he opened the Book and read, and the voice of him rolled in relish of the Gaelic, and then they kneeled on the bare floor and Dol Beag prayed before his God, and John McCook, opening his eyes, saw his lass smiling to him.
The lad and lass took the hill road in the moonlight, and the mother watching them.
* * * * * *
Dol Beag lay in his bed long, turning and turning like a man not at his ease, and then he rose and put his clothes on him.
"Where will you be going at this hour?" said his wife.
"Woman," said he, "I will have forgotten if the skiff is high on the shore-head, for the wind is away to the west'ard," and he went out into the night.
In an hour maybe he was in again and the cruisie lighted, and again he fell on his knees by the side of the bed and prayed aloud, and his wife would be hearing in her sleep.
"Lord, look on Thy servant. Was not I the straight one before Thee, straight like a young tree, and strong before Thee. Lord, look then from that great mountain. Thy home and Thy dwelling-place, and see me, Thy servant, twisted and gnarled like the roots of a fallen tree. It will be in Thy hands to raise up or cast down, and the wicked are before Thee. Strike, God of Battle, and the raging sea, strike and spare not the wicked, for Thy servant will have waited long."
* * * * * *
Gilchrist, who was now the head of the gangers and preventives, turned on his pillow after Dol Beag had crept out.