window, and leaned his forehead on the glass.
Father Denis used no more words. For it is decreed that a man must fight his battles alone and unaided. And the cruellest battle of Ormond’s life was upon him in the little dark room where the tick of the clock beat off the seconds.
Down the mountain sides the rain came in eddies. A sudden lift struck out the full moon riding in wrack above the crest that gave the Lion life. Ormond watched with his lips drawn in. Then he wheeled, and came back to the still man at the fire.
“Good-night, Father. I’m off.”
“Where then?”
“To get a horse that’ll take me up the Changing.”
“An’ ye’re ahl roight,” said Father Denis gladly. “I knew ut, bhoy.” And then Ormond was gone into the night.
In Conroy’s stables, Randal loafed in the crowd that drew round the harness room door. But he skulked into the shadow as Ormond passed with quick alert speech and command. Randal had done no full day’s work since the half-healed scar on his breast was raw. Yet the shame of this had not jagged him before now. Conroy’s voice rumbled down between the low-lit stalls.
“Luck—nuthin’! It’s the Devil’s luck an’
