Prince Casimir pressed his lips together and hung on grimly to his temper. He’d never felt more like shaking Lord Alarid in his life. What, in heaven’s name, was wrong with him? He’d readily agreed to go to Morven when the MacArthur had passed on the gist of Sir James’s worries, thinking that Alarid would take immediate action against the Cri’achan. The attack on Firestar, however, seemed to have done little more than paralyze his thought processes for try as he might, he was getting nowhere fast.

“The Cri’achan, Lord Alarid,” he said again, emphasizing the importance of his words, “must be stopped while they’re still weak.”

Lord Alarid shook his head. “Let’s wait and see what happens, Casimir,” he replied, somewhat irritably. “If the giants are as weak as you say then nothing will come of them. They are far from Morven and this strange attack has upset everything.”

“The MacArthur is seriously worried about them, milord …”

Lord Alarid waved his hand. “The MacArthur might be worried, Casimir, but he is far away in Edinburgh. You are here in Morven and can surely feel that Firestar itself isn’t the slightest bit concerned.” He looked at him shrewdly. “You must feel within yourself that Firestar is aware of what happened and is ready to fight back should there be another attack?” Prince Casimir nodded. The overall sense of well-being that emanated from Firestar gave him confidence, but a niggling doubt persisted that the unknown force might also have upgraded the weapons in its armoury. As far as he was concerned, there was still a chance that Firestar could be seriously damaged.

“If there is another attack then Firestar will, I’m sure, be able to counter it,” Alarid looked at him confidently. “Forget about the giants,” he said. “I assure you, they pose no danger to us at all.”

Feeling totally frustrated, Prince Casimir bowed low and was about to withdraw when Lord Alarid remembered the hobgoblins.

“By the way, you’d better see Rumbletop,” he continued. “Some of the hobgoblins were spotted on the hill by those Americans. They’re quite upset about it.”

“Seen?” repeated Casimir, startled. “How …”

But by then, Lord Alarid had closed his eyes and with a snort of exasperation, Casimir went downstairs to the machine and found Rumbletop.

“What’s been going on, Rumbletop?” he demanded. “Lord Alarid said that some of you were seen on the hill?”

Rumbletop tutted as his tendrils started to grow. “They didn’t mean any harm, Prince Casimir,” he apologized. “Rumbletumble says they were on their way down to the glen.”

“Down to the glen?” queried Casimir. “What on earth for?”

“To see Hughie, milord. He gives them biscuits and honey cakes.”

Rumbletop looked relieved as Casimir hid a smile. “Does he now? Hmmm, always was a nice chap, Hughie.” He looked at the little hobgoblin through eyes that were unexpectedly kind. “But that doesn’t explain how they were seen.”

“Shona has friends staying with her. Two boys and a girl. Rumbletumble said it was quite obvious that they could see them.”

“Did he hear their names, by any chance?”

“Yes, he did. They’re called Neil, Clara and …” He stopped as Casimir held up his hand.

“Neil, Clara … and Lewis,” finished Prince Casimir with an exasperated sigh. “I might have known!”

Rumbletop looked amazed. “You know them, milord?” he asked.

“You could say that,” Casimir agreed, a smile hovering about his lips. “So Neil, Clara and Lewis are here in the glen, are they? How interesting! You don’t need to worry about them, Rumbletop. They are known to us. They’d be wearing their firestones. That’s how they would be able to see Rumbletumble and his friend.”

Rumbletop looked gobsmacked. “Firestones,” he repeated, startled, “but they’re human children, surely?”

Casimir nodded. “May I ask what happened between them and the Americans? Just as a matter of interest.”

“They were telling them to get off the mountain, milord. Shona was cross.”

“I’m sure she was,” Casimir said, smiling at the thought. All the Lords of the North took an interest in the families in the glen and over the years had watched Shona grow up from a toddler to a leggy teenager whose favourite pastime was climbing and scrambling over the slopes of Morven. “And the other three?”

“The girl cried.”

At this, Casimir raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Cried?” he queried. “That doesn’t sound like the Clara I know.”

“The Americans knew she’d seen something. They searched everywhere. She didn’t mention us, though. She told them she’d seen a snake, but … well, I don’t think they believed her.”

Mr Ferguson, when he heard Shona’s story of how they’d been more or less ordered off the mountain, didn’t believe Clara’s story either. Not that it worried him but somehow she didn’t seem the kind of girl who would make up stories about snakes. He turned to Shona. “I hope you weren’t rude to them, Shona?”

Shona blushed. “I wasn’t rude exactly,” she confessed, “but I was really mad. You know how I love Morven.”

Her father sighed. “I think I’d better phone the castle and make an appointment to see these Americans,” he said, “and you four can come along and apologize at the same time.”

“Apologize!” Shona looked startled. “What for? We didn’t know we were doing anything wrong!”

“They’re our neighbours, Shona,” her father said in a voice that brooked no defiance, “and I don’t want there to be any bad feeling between us.”

“But there’s no law against trespassing … Neil said …”

“Neil’s probably quite right about the law of trespass, Shona, but we have to respect our neighbours’ wishes. I think you should stay off the mountain until Jamie Robertson comes back from Canada.”

Shona looked totally horrified. “Stay off Morven!” she repeated. “But … Uncle Jamie’s going to be away for months and months.”

“I know it’s hard, Shona,” her mother said comfortingly, “but it’s not our land, you know. Jamie’s just been kind in letting everyone use it.”

“Look at it from the Americans’ point of view, Shona,” her father pointed out. “They’ve paid a lot of money to rent the estate and they want it to themselves.”

Tears gathered in Shona’s eyes. “I know you’re right, Dad,” she admitted, “but the rest of the year is going to be perfectly foul. And what am I going to do in the summer hols? I spend most of my time on Morven. You know I do!”

“Let your father talk to the Americans first,” her mother suggested. “Once we explain the situation and tell them you love the mountain and wouldn’t dream of causing any damage then I’m sure they’ll change their minds.”

But, as it happened, the Americans didn’t change their minds. Ian Ferguson looked more than a little annoyed as he put the telephone receiver down and glanced across at his wife.

“They don’t seem a very friendly lot, do they?” Helen said, having heard his side of the conversation.

“No, they don’t,” he admitted. “I spoke to this Shane character that Shona told us about and he was really quite adamant. He didn’t want me to visit the castle to talk the matter over, nor did he want the children to come and apologize and as for giving Shona permission to climb the mountain when she pleased … no way!”

“We’ve been so used to having Jamie around,” his wife frowned, “that we’ve taken his kindness for granted. Shona said that the glen had changed and she’s right. It’s not a friendly place any more.”

“I think I’ll nip over and have a word with Hughie,” her husband mused thoughtfully. “He takes a few salmon from the river and the odd stag now and then. I wouldn’t like that lot to catch him at it.”

“It’s hardly likely is it?” Helen frowned.

“You never know,” Ian replied, slipping his arms into the sleeves of his jacket, “but I’d better warn him that they’re not exactly an obliging lot. Say goodnight to the kids for me, will you. I might be late! You know Hughie; once he starts talking, he can go on for hours!”

Although Hughie didn’t talk for hours, he nevertheless had a lot to say and as he listened, Ian Ferguson’s face grew more and more puzzled.

“They’re a weird lot, Ian,” Hughie said grimly, his weather-beaten face anxious. “I don’t know what they’re here for but whatever it is it’s something to do with Morven.”

Ian Ferguson ran a hand through his greying hair. “They’ve been at it ever since they arrived; taking rock samples, going over it with a Geiger counter … the lot. They chucked Shona and her friends off it this afternoon,” Ian remarked. “Told her she was trespassing. I phoned them, thinking that when they knew we were local it would be all right for her to climb on it when she pleased — but they weren’t having it. They made it quite clear that they don’t want anybody on the mountain at all.”

Hughie frowned. “Shona’s never off the mountain in the summer.”

“Well, it looks as though this summer’s going to be different. I don’t want the Americans complaining to Jamie Robertson about us. That’s why I came over, Hughie. To warn you to be careful. Taking a wee stag and a salmon now and then, might well land you in hot water.”

Hughie looked thoughtful. “Jamie Robertson always knew fine what I was at,” he said, looking Ian straight in the eye. “He never minded me taking a salmon for my tea and the only stags I ever shot were auld beasts that would never have lasted the winter — he agreed that it was better for them to be shot cleanly than die, freezing, in a snowdrift.”

Ian Ferguson nodded. “I guessed as much,” he grinned. “I really came over to sound you out about the Americans. They seem a weird lot. In fact, there’s something totally fishy about the whole set-up at the castle. I just can’t figure out what it is, though.”

“There’s always the secret passage that runs from your house to the castle …” Hughie reminded him.

Ian looked doubtful. “You mean we should spy on them?”

“Well …?”

“I don’t know … perhaps we should wait for a bit. I mean, they might be perfectly innocent … and there’s Jamie Robertson to consider, too. I’d never be able to look him in the eye again if he ever found out that we’d been spying on his tenants.”

Such considerations, however, weren’t worrying Shona, for even as her father was discussing the secret passage with Hughie, she was rolling back the fitted carpet in her old playroom. Set flat within one of the flagstones was a heavy round ring.

“Here let me help you,” Lewis said as she grasped the ring and hefted the stone upwards. It must have been on some kind of spring for as it rose, it tilted sideways so that it rested against the wall.

“There it is,” she said proudly, pointing downwards, “our very own secret passage. It goes all the way to Morven Castle!”

Neil and Clara looked excitedly at the square, black hole that had opened up in the floor.

“How deep is it?” Neil asked, kneeling down to peer into it.

“About six or seven feet,” she said shining a torch into its depths, “but Dad put a big, wooden box there so that we can jump down onto it first.”

“It smells a bit musty, doesn’t it?” Clara said, sniffing the air.

“Mmm. We don’t use it all that much. Mostly in the winter when we get snowed in and the drifts are too deep to use the road. Uncle Jamie always invites us for Christmas dinner at the castle and once, when I was small, we took our presents through it with Dad dressed up as Santa Claus. I’ll never forget it,” she laughed, “it was so exciting!”

“Where does it come out?” Neil asked.

“In the Great Hall of the castle,” Lewis said. “Shona took me through it the last time I was here. Of course, she asked Lord Robertson first if we could come and he didn’t mind.”

“He had tea and cakes ready for us when we reached the hidden door in the panelling and climbed out,” Shona grinned. She looked at her watch. “It’s a bit late to take you along the passage just now but we could go down tomorrow after dinner. We’ve got Jennifer to visit in the morning and her mum promised us lunch.”

“Sounds like a busy day,” Clara smiled.

“Yeah,” agreed Neil, his mind still on the secret passage, “and with any luck we might find out what Shane and his lot are up to! I’m just dying to find out!”