track of the movement—unless it were built on the rock—would go down like a ship in a storm. Go down solid and in a moment, without warning and without hope!"
"Then with such a neighbour as a shifting bog, the only safe place for a house would be on a rock."—Before my eyes, as I spoke, rose the vision of Murdock's house, resting on its knoll of rock, and I was glad for one reason that there, at least, would be safety for Joyce—and his daughter.
"Exactly! Now Murdock's house is as safe as a church. I must look at his new house when I go up to-morrow."
As I really did not care about Murdock's future, I asked no further questions; so we sat in silence and smoked in the gathering twilight.
There was a knock at the door. I called "Come in." The door opened slowly, and through a narrow opening Andy's shock head presented itself.
"Come in, Andy!" said Dick. "Come here and try if you can manage a glass of punch!"
"Begor!" was Andy's sole expression of acquiescence. The punch was brewed and handed to him.
"Is that as good as Widow Kelligan's?" I asked him. Andy grinned:—
"All punch is good, yer 'an'rs. Here's both yer good healths, an' here's 'The Girls' an'"—turning to me, "'the Bog.'" He winked, threw up his hand—and put down the empty glass. "Glory be to God" was his grace after—drink.
