When Hal, after many difficulties, escaped the watchful eyes of Miss
Ainsworth, and running through torrents of rain hid himself under a
drenched tarpaulin at the bottom of Micky's boat, the supreme moment of
his life had been reached.
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----"
Mrs. Court stayed to hear no more. The blank, hopeless faces of the
speakers told the rest.
Miss Ainsworth was weeping hysterically, and grandmamma's features grew
stone-like in their set misery.
All the new-comer realized was that Hal--her Hal--had met with some
disaster. Only the gravest accident would keep him away at such a
moment. Her mind leapt to the worst fears. Like one possessed she rushed
alone down the long drive, hardly knowing what she did, till her feet
reached the very brink of the flowing tide.
Surely the cry of her heart must call, even above the storm, to little
Hal, the tender, clinging child, accustomed to think always of her
pleasure during the happy days they spent at home together.
[Illustration: "RUNNING AT FULL SPEED, CAME A SMALL BREATHLESS FIGURE."]
As if in answer to her soul's appeal, along the bank of the Lough's
dark, swollen water, running at full speed, came a small breathless
figure, drenched to the skin, holding aloft a tiny paper packet, which
he waved victoriously.
"Dearest, it was for you!" he cried. "And, oh! I'm so sorry to be late,
but Micky nearly got shipwrecked this time, the wind was so high, and
his mast broke. I was frightened you'd lose your voice, so I went to
Ferryport to buy Miss Cairn's cough-drops. They are splendid, dearest;
try one and see!"
Already he had ferreted into the bag, and was holding between a salted
thumb and finger a brilliant specimen of Miss Cairn's triumph in
pink-striped lozenges.
As Mrs. Court heard the eager tidings: "Dearest, it was for you!" a rush
of tears to her eyes and a sudden choking in her throat made Hal
anxious.
"You--you _have_ caught a cold!" he exclaimed, with conviction, forcing
the sugared cough-drop into her protesting hands.
"No, darling boy--no," she stammered, mastering her emotion with an
effort; "the New Year gladness choked me for a moment, that's all!"
_Solutions to the Puzzles in the December Number._