There was clearly no epithet that suited better with Monsey’s mood than the said monster’s proper name.

“Friends,” said Ralph, more seriously, “it’s clear I can’t leave before I see my father buried, and it’s just as clear I can’t see him buried if I stay.  With your help I may do both—­that is, seem to do both.”

“How? how? unfold—­I can interpret you no conundrums,” said Monsey.  “To go, and yet not to go, that is the question.”

“Can I help you?” said Robbie with the simplicity of earnestness.

“Go back, schoolmaster, to the Lion.”

“I know it—­I’ve been there before—­well?”

“Say, if your conscience will let you—­I know how tender it is—­say you saw me go over Lauvellen in the direction of Fairfield.  Say this quietly—­say it to old Matthew in a whisper and as a secret; that will be enough.”

“I’ve shared with that patriarch some secrets before now, and they’ve been common property in an hour—­common as the mushrooms on the common—­common as his common saws—­common—­”

“Robbie, the burial will take place the day after to-morrow, at three in the afternoon, at the kirk-garth—­”

“Oh, that Garth,—­that devil’s garth—­that Joe—­”

“At the kirk-garth at Gosforth,” continued Ralph.  “Go round the city and the dale, and bid every master and mistress within the warning to Shoulthwaite Moss at nine o’clock in the morning.  Be there yourself as the representative of the family, and see all our old customs observed.  The kirk-garth is twenty miles away, across rugged mountain country, and you must follow the public pass.”

“Styehead Pass?”

Ralph nodded assent.  “Start away at eleven o’clock; take the old mare to bear the body; let the boy ride the young horse, and chain him to the mare at the bottom of the big pass.  These men, these spies, these constables, whatever they may be, will lie in wait for me about the house that morning.  If they don’t find me at my father’s funeral they’ll then believe that I must have gone.  Do you hold the mare’s head, Robbie—­mind that.  When you get to the top of the pass, perhaps some one will relieve you—­perhaps so, perhaps not.  You understand?”

“I do.”

“Let nothing interfere with this plan as I give it you.  If you fail in any single particular, all may be lost.”

“I’ll let nothing interfere.  But what of Willy?  What if he object?

“Tell him these are my wishes—­he’ll yield to that.”

There was a moment’s silence.

“Robbie, that was a noble resolve you told me of; and you can keep it, can you not?”

“I can—­God help me.”

“Keep it the day after to-morrow—­you remember our customs, sometimes more honored, you know, in the breach than the observance—­you can hold to your resolve that day; you must hold to it, for everything hangs on it.  It is a terrible hazard.”

Robbie put his hand in Ralph’s, and the two stalwart dalesmen looked steadily each into the other’s face.  There was a dauntless spirit of resolution in the eyes of the younger man.  His resolve was irrevocable.  His crime had saved him.