Once safe in the smithy, David recovered his temper.

If Louie followed him, which was probable, he would know better how to deal with her here, with a wall at his back and a definite area to defend, than he did in the treacherous openness of the heath.
However, just as he was settling himself down, with a sigh of relief, between the pan and the wall, he caught sight of something through one of the gaps of the old ruin which made him fling down his book and run to the doorway.

There, putting his fingers to his mouth, he blew a shrill whistle along the side of the Scout.

A bent figure on a distant path stopped at the sound.

It was an old man, with a plaid hanging from his shoulders.