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saucepan in which eggs were being cooked—and this at an hour or two after midnight!

A strange proceeding! The meal could scarcely be supper, seeing that the entire family had retired to rest shortly before ten o’clock. And breakfast, soon after midnight, would surely entail very little fast to break! The man at the stove was clad in an old coat and riding trousers; and when he turned she saw, to her still further astonishment, that he was Rodney Marsh!

“What has happened?” she whispered. “Is any one ill?”

He turned to look at her in some surprise. She had closed the door behind her in case she should disturb the sleeping house.

“What are you doing—up at this time in the morning?” he asked in his turn.

“I wondered who was here.”

“I’m just getting some breakfast for the boss.”

“Why? Is he going away?”

“Going away! Of course not. We’re only starting to muster.”

“In the middle of the night?”

He was quite coolly setting things on the table.

“Don’t you know that sheep have to be mustered before dawn? After sunrise they scatter. It makes the work twice as hard. At night they’re all pretty well together on the higher country.”

Through the door behind her, Dick Holmes entered. He looked rather more astonished than she had done, but it was at her appearance here at this hour, not the shepherd’s.

“Miss Merrill thought I was a burglar,” said Rodney, grinning.