When they had explored downstairs, Mrs. Morton insisted that they could only prospect upstairs first and then the twins must go to bed. She gave them all a solemn warning about the dangers of oil lamps and candles, and put David in charge of the expedition.

They were all so tired afterwards, and for once David went to bed with the others. He was a little ashamed, but suddenly found that he could barely keep his eyes open.

He had meant to put lots of his things away and make some changes in the little room he shared with Richard, but suddenly nothing seemed to matter except bed.

Then he was dreaming. He dreamt that he was in the garden at home in the days when his father went to the office every day. He was playing with his father and Macbeth. It was a favourite game.

They chased Macbeth down the garden until they got him into the corner by the potting shed. He might, and often did escape them five or six times, but finally they always forced him into this corner. It was a sort of ritual and Macbeth loved it. He would tear madly round the lawn snarling and dodging, but not until he was pinned in his corner did he start to bark.

It was not the bark he used when ratting or rabbiting, nor was it his watchdog bark, but rather a special kind of yelp. And now he was yelping loudly. Really loudly... louder and louder... David turned to ask his father why Mac was making so much noise this time, and found he was alone.

He woke up. Macbeth was still barking.

David reached for his torch and looked at the watch his father had given him the week before. Twenty to three. He did not much like the idea, but he knew he had got to go down and stop Macbeth making such a din.

The growls died in Mac's throat as he saw David.

"What's wrong, you silly little dog?" With a rush Macbeth came at him and jumped up. David did not know where the dog was supposed to be sleeping, but every time he tried to leave him on the coloured hearthrug he jumped up again and followed him to the door.

"All right, Mackie," he said at last. "I don't know what Mother will say, but you'd better come up with me. I think you're lonely."

Mac knew. His tail wagged so violently that the whole of his little black body swayed and he fairly galloped up the stairs.