Alec had mended the lorry, and collected all the men—Stennets and Dances—and took them to the lighthouse. Sarah was the only woman there. They allowed her to come because she was new, and she had no other responsibilities—no animals at the croft or children, but some of the older men grumbled at her presence. It was felt to be not quite lucky. The lorry stopped by the school house and Alec went to the door and asked George Palmer-Jones if he would like to help. The operation depended on having enough men to cover the hill, and with Will back at school they would be short of people. In previous times the school had been closed for the Hill Gather and they had used the older boys to fill the gaps, but no one approached Jonathan Drysdale to ask for his cooperation. They were certain that he would refuse.

It was a bright, sunny day with a gusty breeze which broke the surface of the pools on the hill, so that the reflected light scattered in all directions. There was white spume from the waves on the sea and the fulmars and kittiwakes seemed to be playing in the wind. Sandy Stennet arranged the men on the hill, meticulously checking with Kenneth Dance that he agreed with the way the men had been placed. He put George Palmer-Jones at the end of the line, nearest the west cliffs. The land was flatter there, and not so boggy. It would be easier walking, with fewer sheep. George knew why he had been placed there and it added to his sense of helplessness. He remembered the ridicule in Sylvia’s voice, and being placed at the end of the line, next to old Robert, seemed to him an added insult.

At last Sandy was satisfied and the men began to move. There was a noise of dogs barking and men clapping and whistling to send the sheep forward. Despite his hurt pride at being given the easiest position on the line George began to enjoy himself. There was some warmth in the sun and he had the spectacular view of the cliffs and the sea. He felt close to the sky. Robert’s dog was chasing madly between them, doing their work for them. They walked slowly so that the men who had to climb the steep rise of the hill could keep up with them. George could see them still in line, like a row of telegraph poles. The island was wider here, and the whistling and calling became more frantic as sheep escaped behind them. There would be another gather, later in the month, to collect the sheep they had missed.