"You call, Dan!" Conal rose from his seat by the fire with a gesture of disappointment. "It'll be full moon to-morrow night and I'm goin' to make a dash for 'm. Teddy and I ran up a yard near the old hut in Narrow Valley. That's what's been keeping me. Steve's goin' to send tucker and fire-irons down to-day."
"What about young Cameron?" the Schoolmaster asked.
"We'll have to keep an eye on him. You don't suppose he'll blab, do you? You say he knows the game already and hasn't. But we can't afford to take chances."
"But he's not to be dragged in, Conal!"
Conal threw back his head, laughing.
"Well, I want another man," he said. "As for being dragged in, he won't be dragged in. But did you ever hear of a youngster who'd sit behind the door and suck his thumbs while there was moonlighting in the air? It won't be a case of draggin' him in, but keepin' him out. After all, it's the sport makes it worth while—the waiting, rush, fight and carryin' through of things."
He stretched his long limbs.
"But I won't have Davey 'working' with you, Conal," the Schoolmaster said angrily.
Deirdre came into the room, a little bonnet over her head and a long black cloak covering her. There was a wild colour the wind had whipped into them in her cheeks and her eyes were shining.
"You, Conal!" she cried eagerly when she saw the tall figure of the drover. "When did you get back?"