CHAPTER ONE.
WANDERING LIGHTS.
It was the first time Tim and I had fallen out, and to this day I could scarcely tell you how it arose.
We had gone out on to the headland to drive in the sheep; for the wind was blowing up from seaward, and it was plain to tell that the night would be a wild one.

Father was away with the trawlers off Sheep Haven, and would be ill pleased should he return to-morrow to find any of the flock amissing.

So, though mother lay sick in the cottage, with none to tend her, Tim and I, because of the dread we had of our father's displeasure, left her and went out to seek the sheep before the storm broke.
It was no light task, for the dog was lame, and the wind carried back our shouts into our very teeth.

The flock had straggled far and wide in search of the scanty grass, and neither Tim nor I had our hearts in the work.
Presently Tim took a stone to dislodge one stubborn ewe, where it hid beside a rock, and, as luck would have it, struck not her but my cheek, which received a sharp cut.
"Faith, and you'll make a fine soldier when you're grown," said I, in a temper, "if that's the best you can shoot." Tim often said he would be a soldier when he came to be a man, and was touchy on the point.
"Shoot, is it ?" said he, picking up another stone; "you blackguard, stand where ye are and I'll show yez." And he let fly and struck me again on the self-same place; and I confess I admired his skill more than his brotherly love.
I picked up the stone and flung it back.

But the wind took it so that it struck not Tim but the ewe.